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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28655508">The Men Of Lawlessness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormywriter/pseuds/bookwormywriter'>bookwormywriter</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmYourWatson/pseuds/FiliTheLionKing'>FiliTheLionKing (IAmYourWatson)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Play, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, BDSM, BDSM dynamics, Biblical Allusions (Abrahamic Religions), Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Blasphemy, Communication, Daddy Kink, Found Family, Genderqueer Character, Joe Is Genderqueer (Explained In-Universe), Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Pet Play, Please Check The Author's Notes In Every Chapter For Chapter-Specific Tags And Warnings!, Polyamory, Sacrilege, Temporary Character Death, These Are Not All Of The Tags Needed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:25:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28655508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormywriter/pseuds/bookwormywriter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmYourWatson/pseuds/FiliTheLionKing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicolò di Genova, 33, leads a pretty unconventional life. He has a partner he adores, a new house, friends, and a mission. Sure, his mission is to bring about the apocalypse as the Antichrist, and his partner is quite literally a sex demon, but we all have our little quirks. </p><p>Little does he know that his life will be forever changed one fateful evening when he walks headfirst into a man Fate has ordained to be his.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Allow Me To Introduce Myself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone! We hope you enjoy this novel-length fic that we are somehow <i>still</i> in the process of writing!</p><p>Please note that at the beginning of every chapter, in the author's notes, there will be a list of tags and warnings that apply to that specific chapter. We're doing this because, otherwise, our tag list for this fic would be <i>huge!</i> Please read the author's note carefully!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name<br/>But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game</i>
</p><p>In which two lovers move to a new town, groceries are spilled, a church is visited, and lives are changed forever.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tags and Warnings: </p><p>Blasphemy, Religious Themes, Catholic Guilt, Shapeshifting, Mentions Of Mortification (But Not Seen Or Discussed In Detail). </p><p>If you see anything missing, please let us know!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Don’t let anyone deceive you in any way, for that day will not come until the rebellion occurs and the man of lawlessness is revealed, the man doomed to destruction. He will oppose and will exalt himself over everything that is called God or is worshiped, so that he sets himself up in God’s temple, proclaiming himself to be God. Don’t you remember that when I was with you I used to tell you these things? And now you know what is holding him back, so that he may be revealed at the proper time. For the secret power of lawlessness is already at work; but the one who now holds it back will continue to do so till he is taken out of the way. -Second Thessalonians 2:3-7</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“So, what do you think, my dear?” Nicky asked from his vantage point in the middle of the barren living room of his newly acquired house in Cologne. It would need decorating, of course, but that would come.</p><p>Joe tilted his head, eyes sweeping the large room, the bare wood edifice of the rafters. It was a modern build, meant to look like an old chalet. “Not much of a backyard like you enjoy,” he commented softly.</p><p>Nicky hummed. He did enjoy his greenery. “I’ll sacrifice it for the other commodities; there’s an expansive basement.”</p><p>Joe’s smile bore his teeth. “Ah. Well, we’ll just have to bring the plants indoors, make a sunroom.” He turned in place, eyeing everything. “So very white and beige. Be honest, how much of this choice had to do with the fact that we’re less than three blocks in any direction from a church?”</p><p>Nicky opened his mouth and then shut it with a shrug and a dismissive hand wave. “Unimportant. We’re here for a good long time and I wanted an investment in a city I could dig my hands into.”</p><p>Joe moved to cross the space and wrapped his hands around Nicky’s waist, resting his cheek on the top of his head. “Well, we’d better get shopping for decor and food if you’re planning on putting down roots.”</p><p>Nicky rested back against Joe for a moment. “I suppose we can order things and return to the hotel for the evening, unless you feel like being rustic and sleeping on the carpet.”</p><p>Joe managed an affronted look. “As if I would let you! Shopping, a nice dinner, and then back to the hotel for the evening. We can start the move tomorrow.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It didn't matter to Booker what Cologne looked like. It didn't matter if he liked the feel of the place or the smell of it. It didn't matter if he liked the people or the language or the food. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered to him was that it was far away from Marseilles.</p><p>The separation. The divorce. The public outing. The ridicule and shunning from the people he had once called friends and family. The looks of disgust on his son's faces when they found out that their father was a... a <em>queer</em>. He'd hidden it so well. All of his life, Sébastien had known that he was wrong, that there was something broken and strange inside of him. This desire for men as well as women was frowned upon by everyone and everything he knew. His family, the church, his friends, <em>everyone</em> sneered at people and things that were different. He'd tried so hard to keep it all to himself, but somehow, he'd been found out. To this day, he had no idea who or what had exposed him. It ate at him, the uncertainty, but here in Cologne, he could try to forget his past.</p><p>Here, he wasn't Sébastien. He was Booker, a fond nickname earned from friends in a football club that didn't exist. The church here thought he had been married, but widowed, and his sons were scattered around the world in search of their own path to God. Booker himself was on the path to becoming a deacon, since formerly married men could not become priests. Here, he would find his absolution.</p><p>He was on his way to the market, traveling home after a long day of prayer, hungry and weary from self-deprivation in the name of penance. His head was down, focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Booker didn't see the two handsome men walk by him, the smell of expensive aftershave and the barest, faintest hint of sulfur and brine pouring off of them in gentle waves. He simply kept walking.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Nicky paused mid-conversation when he felt a slight flare of heat and power next to him, usually a sign of Joe marking a target or being curious about something. Nicky turned a bit, nudging his sunglasses up his forehead to look where Joe had been staring without any impediment.</p><p>"Hm. Interesting choice."</p><p>"He reeks of repression.” Joe murmured. "I'm definitely going to have to dream-slide into that rugged head of his." Joe stared for another long moment, an itch and an impression coming over him. The man called out to him with a sad sort of song. </p><p>“I think...Fate might be calling me to him.” He looked to Nicky, brows lifting a bit. “I think we're meant to be here. With him. To have him.”</p><p>Nicky watched the man in question. He was walking slowly and carrying groceries. Joe's instincts about this sort of thing were usually never wrong. He heaved out a slow breath and adjusted his glasses back on his nose for an even better look. “If you're certain. Far be it for me to stand in the way of Fate.”</p><p>“You're exactly the type to stand in the way of Fate. It's what you're built for.” Joe teased softly. “Let me just take a pass, please?”</p><p>“Hm, alright.” The man had passed them now. “You don't know how he'll respond.” Nicky turned more fully, putting his hands in his pockets. "Some men tend not respond to men like you easily on your first pass."</p><p>"Ah, but you forget, there are very few men like me."</p><p>Nicky barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatics as Joe easily shifted into a more buxom, feminine physique as he strode confidently and directly into said man and all but bowled him over.</p><p>"<em>Tut mir Leid</em> – Sorry!" Came the soft but husky feminine voice, hands waving in obvious apology.</p><p>Booker grunted as he dropped his (thankfully mostly empty) shopping bags. He bent down to pick them up before looking up at the person who crashed into him, frowning darkly. He was so not in the mood for this.</p><p>"Oh. Um...It's fine." She was beautiful, that was for sure, but not flash of arousal hit him, just surprise. Once upon a time, she might've been just his type, but after Manon, well...</p><p>"Just...be careful. God be with you." Booker ducked his head before moving to go on his way.</p><p>Joe barely managed to swallow down the urge to hiss at the blessing, but, oh, that explained more than a few things.</p><p>"You missed something, Father." Nicky called out, stooping down to pick up the clear bag containing two slightly battered black pomegranates. He extended his arm toward him, smiling gently.</p><p> "O-Oh, I'm not a priest, j-just a Deacon." Booker stammered out, taking the bag from the man with trembling hands. It was as if the woman wasn't even there, just this strange new man. "Thank you. I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention. A lot on my mind."</p><p>Booker was captivated by those sea glass eyes encased in gold rimmed glasses.</p><p>"Not 'just' anything," Nicky replied, voice soft but firm. His eyes flicked over the man's face, taking in his expression. "Married, then."</p><p>Nicky could feel the heat radiating from Joe, knowing full well that while Joe's demure figure was shrinking back, the small tugs towards the strings of desire would be happening full force.</p><p>Joe could practically taste the want. He also wanted to smack Nicky for his earlier comment. If Joe had simply followed his gut and not shifted, this would have been much more interesting already. He slipped fully behind Nicky and let the shift switch him back, not really hiding the change. Humans tended to take it in stride and justify it to themselves, but he projected the thought into the Deacon-not-Priest's mind of watching the woman stride off. He slid out from Nicky's other side, hand curling around his waist.</p><p>"We're going to be late."</p><p>"Was married. It...ended..." Why was he saying this to a stranger he'd only just met, who had spoken kindly but radiated an aura of hidden power? Booker was startled from his reverie by the appearance of a new man. Oh, but he was handsome too! What wicked temptation was the Lord throwing his way now? He had been so careful, so pious and priestly, suffering as the Lord demanded of him. <em>Merde!</em></p><p>And then the other man had wrapped his arm around the first man’s waist. Oh. Ooooh. They were together. Of course they were. Cologne was fairly metropolitan. It was safer to be open here, in a modern place with modern ideals. Booker forced his expression back into neutrality, a mild, priestly smile painted onto his lips.</p><p>"Thank you. For your kindness. I'll let you be on your way. God be with you."</p><p>Nicky bit down the smile at the way Joe's fingers twitched against his hip at the blessing. Poor thing got pins and needles if the person was pious enough, otherwise they were just pretty words. Sometimes it was fun to play with, though.</p><p>"Before you go," Nicky said softly, "We're new in town. Just moved, actually. I've been looking for a new place of worship to call my own, do you have a card?"</p><p>Booker blinked slowly, that stupid, traitorous corner of his heart shivering with anticipation. He could see them again. So gorgeous and lovely. A reminder of what he couldn't have. Such sweet suffering. He shouldn't...</p><p>"I don't, but...I live just around the corner. The red building with the bronze lions outside. If you wait there tomorrow morning at 7, I'll walk with you to the church. You're both welcome."</p><p>"That sounds good." Nicky replied, putting his hand in Joe's. "We'll see you then, have a pleasant evening."</p><p>The two of them moved off and once they had rounded the corner, Joe turned his attention back to Nicky, wide grin on his face. He almost felt giddy. "I know how to pick them.  And I told you that I felt a call.  I told you!  Religious types.  But it's something more, too.  I can't figure it out yet."</p><p>"If this is a reminder about the Buddhist nun who had been an ascetic for fifteen years before you met her in 1830, I am not listening." Nicky pursed his lips, tucking them against a wall to talk.  They switched to Arabic, voices low.  “You find out what it is that's bugging you and let me know.  If it's something serious or a threat I'm going to want any advance notice.”</p><p>“I don't think it's a warning.  I think it's...”  Joe hesitated a moment, wondering if he was getting too far ahead of himself.  “I think it will be good.”</p><p>"This means I'm spending tonight alone while you go dream-hopping doesn't it?"</p><p>Joe huffed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I'd take you if I could."</p><p>"At least have us both! The way he was eyeing you while trying not to stare at me, poor thing."</p><p>Joe hummed thoughtfully. "Him watching us?"</p><p>"If you find out his name while you're visiting, let me know, I'm going to want to write a few things down."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Ooooh!" Soft, muffled moans filled Booker's small, sparse room. His bed springs groaned as his hips rocked his cock up into his fist. He was sweating and panting, his skin sallow in the pre-dawn light. He couldn't stop. He couldn't help it. He needed this. Needed to come.</p><p>Brief flashes of his dreams tormented him: a bare thigh, warm lips, a wicked laugh, a hot tongue, scratching nails. The men from earlier fucking in front of him, moaning in delight as they rutted shamelessly. Booker had been unable to move, trapped in a chair and gasping with lust. The darker man had pinned him down with his eyes, purring filth at him as the paler man whimpered in delight. He'd demanded Booker's name. Booker had given both, the real one and the fake. The man rolled Booker's name on his tongue like fine wine, moaning it as he came deep inside his blue-eyed lover.</p><p>Then, Booker had awoken, his hips rutting against his sheets. The memory of his Christian name on his tormentor's lips tore his orgasm from him.</p><p>Booker sucked in a few uneasy breaths as he sunk back into his pillows, riding the high of endorphins rushing through his body. His mind felt pleasantly clear, and though he felt sluggish and slightly dizzy, his nerves tingled deliciously. He closed his eyes with a sigh before swallowing down the knot threatening to form in his throat, desperate to shove the feeling of disgust aside a moment longer and bask in the afterglow.</p><p>He finally pushed himself up and out of bed, padding toward the bathroom to turn on the shower. He met his eyes in the mirror before wincing and quickly turning to stare at the wall as the water heated to an almost unbearable temperature. When he stepped into the shower, the water stung, and his skin went red and something inside of him loosened with the pain.</p><p>Penance.</p><p>Absolution.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>At 7am sharp, Booker was standing between the bronze lions guarding the doors to his building, leaning against the western one. He was dressed smartly in his literal Sunday best. His suit was cheap, but it was clean and pressed. A man of God must live on little in order to give his all to the world and to the church. His hair was brushed and styled carefully, and in his hands, he held his small Bible, reading through Proverbs as he waited.</p><p>"Good morning! I brought you coffee," Nicky said by way of greeting, holding out the paper cup. "As a thank you since we're probably going to be taking up your time. There's cream and milk and sugar in the bag, and a <em>franzbrötchen</em>."</p><p>Joe just gave a sleepy morning nod, toying with the string to his teabag before taking a sip. "We should get your name if we're going to be getting to know each other. I'm Joe, and the morning person is Nicky."</p><p>Booker smiled brightly as he tucked his Bible away in his coat pocket. "<em>Merci.</em> Thank you." He took the drink and pastry. "My name is Booker."</p><p>He carefully added some sugar to his coffee, leaving the cream. While he waited for the sugar to melt, Booker took a bite of the pastry, licking the buttery grease from his lips. "This is delicious. Thank you. You're a gift from God." He grinned.</p><p>Nicky sent Joe a look when he let out a soft bark of a laugh and tried to cover it up with a sip of his tea before turning to look at Booker with a beatific smile. "You're welcome, Mr. Booker." He nudged the simple silver-framed glasses up his nose with the back of his hand. "Is it a long walk?"</p><p>"It's just Booker. It's an old nickname from my football years. I used to collect rare books, ergo..." Booker laughed, taking the last bite of his pastry. "It's only a few blocks south from here. We're a smaller congregation, but we all love God. And the choirmaster studied in Prague. We're lucky to have him."</p><p>He led the way, Nicky to his left and Joe a half-step behind them, seemingly too tired to properly keep up. "You said you were new in town?"</p><p>"Booker," Nicky repeated, letting the English of the name slide into his lazy Italian lilt rather than attempt the proper Anglicizing. "Mm. Just the beginning of the month. For the past few years, we kind of went on a..." He gestured vaguely. "Whirlwind trip, you know, post graduate school, chasing the last, very fading bits of youth."</p><p>"He puts it that way to make it sound more mysterious. Our friends dragged us backpacking from country to country until I basically had to chain him down to get him to stay still." Joe teased, coming up on Booker's other side, boxing him between the two of them. "Nicky loves people and community, and will probably want another degree, so I figured a place like this would be nice.</p><p>Booker visibly shivered at the mention of chains, but he tried to pass it off as just the wind. "Ah. A serial student, eh? I miss my university days. These old bones aren't what they used to be. Academia was my home for a long while." Booker sighed wistfully. He tensed a little when Joe sidled up to him, but he quickly relaxed at the warmth radiating off of the man. "This is a good place to settle down. Lots of history and places to hide. A good place to start again."</p><p>"Old bones?" Joe echoed, looking Booker up and down once. "You're not much older than either of us." He offered an easy smile, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets.</p><p>"Oh no, another bookish one! Though with your name why should I be surprised."</p><p>Nicky scoffed. "Be nice, Joe. Not everyone can take your charm first thing in the morning." He gave a soft pat to Booker's bicep twice, gently, before tucking his hand back into his pocket. "Sorry about him." He licked his lips and took a sip of his own coffee. "History is nice, but it'll be lonely at first, no friends here."</p><p>"I turned forty-two this year. If that's not getting old, I don't know what is." Booker laughed, but it was a bit bitter. "My name is about all I have left." He blushed when Nicky touched him. Booker was unused to touch overall, much less a friendly one. "Sometimes loneliness is the best you can hope for. But you'll make friends easily. I have some friends at the church."</p><p>"You look damn fine for your age, if I can say that about a man of God," Joe said with a slight smile. "And I'm sure you have lots left, and if all goes well, you'll have two new friends, right? Even if I'm not the church type I promise to be on my best behavior."</p><p>They paused at an intersection. Nicky could see the church in the distance. "Oh, St. Cecilia. Patron of music and poetry, Joe." Nicky leaned a bit toward Booker, almost conspiratorial. "Joe's a poet."</p><p>Booker blushed bright red as his space was invaded and his looks were complimented. Some small, vain part of him preened. "Oh. I, um...thank you? You are very kind." He quickly changed the subject. "Yes! St. Cecilia. We do our best to bring music into worship. A joyful noise, or so I've heard. I'm no good at singing, but the Bible is its own kind of poetry. Do you read it, Mr. Joe?"</p><p>"I've read it before, and just Joe, just like you're 'Just Booker'." He shot him an easy smile again. "Song of Songs is definitely one of the better parts."</p><p>"Says the man who quoted homoerotic poetry at a bar in an attempt to impress three drag queens."</p><p>"Abu Nawas was a gift to Persian literature and those queens knew I was right."</p><p>Nicky shot Booker a look as if to say 'you believe this guy' as they crossed onto the grounds of the church.</p><p>"Abu Nawas is an amazing writer, but I've always been partial to Pablo Neruda myself." Booker smiled, looking up at the steeple.</p><p>“<em>‘Don't go far off, not even for a day, because I don't know how to say it - a day is long and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.’</em>"</p><p>Joe gave a soft grunt as he distractedly tripped on one of the steps but caught himself from tipping over at the distraction. "Neruda is good. Sad, but good." He rubbed where his ribs had been jostled and peered at the door leading into the church. "If there's a service that's going to happen, I think I'll wait out here, unless it's just a tour right now. I don't want to intrude."</p><p>"Do you have a different god, Joe?" Booker asked quietly, no judgment in his voice. Who was he to judge, anyway? "There will be a service soon, but you don't have to stay. I...can miss one service. In the name of helping others. I can show you around the neighborhood since you're new here."</p><p>Joe watched Booker's face, tilting his head curiously. "In a manner of speaking, yes. I believe and I have rituals, but it's personal, you know?"</p><p>Nicky sat down on the steps, taking a few photos of the wildflowers on the grounds with his phone. "Have you always been on the path toward clerical life, Booker?" He tipped his head back a bit to blink up at Booker through his glasses with a lopsided smile. "I went to seminary."</p><p>Joe threw his hands up, sitting on the steps a few paces up from Nicky. "Here we go, here comes the confession."</p><p>Booker frowned, confused but willing to go along with it. He sat down between them, glad that they were early. He had meant to give them a tour before the congregation arrived, so they had time before anyone else arrived.</p><p>"...No. I studied the arts. I was a librarian, among...other things. I love all kinds of art, but books were my life. Now, it is just one book. I chose this life to atone for the evil I have done, the sins that lie on my heart and soul. I must repent, as we all must repent." Booker said quietly, unable to meet Nicky's eyes.</p><p>"You sound so sad. I hate to think of whatever caused a man that's as seemingly brilliant as you to be so sad." Nicky murmured, resting his arms on his knees as he watched Booker. "We all do bad things in the hope of doing the ultimate right thing, don't we? We all have something we're trying to fight to accept."</p><p>"Why did you turn from the holy path?"</p><p>Nicky inhaled sharply at the question and worried his lower lip with his teeth. "I wasn't happy. I was trying to be someone I'm wasn't. I thought... if I have one life to live and God makes no mistakes, then I'm not meant to suffer for being true to myself."</p><p>"Is that why you chose this place? Your love of art? Part church, part museum, all history?" Joe asked quietly, watching Booker intently. "You're a good man, and I know it's the Catholic thing to suffer in silence, but if you ever want an impartial ear, let me know."</p><p>"...I am not a good man. I never have been, and I never will be. I can only hope to do enough good works to be allowed Purgatory over Hell itself." Booker whispered with such brutal conviction that it surprised even himself. "I am wrong. I am broken and twisted and defective. I am...a sinner. In the worst ways." He glared at the distant horizon. "I chose this place because it was as far away from my home as I could afford to go. I spent what little I had left on a plane ticket and ran away like a coward. I do not love this church or this place, only the distance it provides. In God is my salvation…if He deigns to give it."</p><p> Nicky reeled a bit as if he'd been slapped. That strength of Booker’s conviction was <em>desperate</em>. It was almost weaponized. Booker was a believer out of sheer fear and not admiration or worship. He opened his mouth to say something before shutting it, unable to find the words, and turned his face away as he felt the anger and bitterness swell up inside of him. He tried to tamp it down, but it boiled hot under the surface, and he bit his tongue until he could taste blood to keep from going feral. He exhaled slow and shaky and curled and uncurled his hands in his lap, swallowing down the rage until it quelled to a simmer.</p><p>"It sounds like you're doing this for all the wrong reasons," Nicky finally whispered, low and fierce. "Worship is an act of devotion, of submission, of..." He skidded the heels of his palms over his knees. "Of intimacy. It's a good thing. It's meant to be pleasurable. Not—"</p><p>Nicky jolted for a moment, still somewhat distracted, when he felt a hand curl around the back of his neck. He wanted to lash out for a moment before sagging back into it as Joe's arms moved around his shoulders, swallowing thickly.</p><p>"Sorry. I..." He cleared his throat. "Sorry."</p><p>Booker was as still as a statue. All that rage, and sorrow, and bitterness he felt vanished in an instant, replaced by awe and fear. The sheer vehement anger flowing from Nicky hit him like a tidal wave. Oh, it was beautiful and glorious. Booker was terrified and helplessly drawn in, like a moth to an open flame. "There's no need. I...no one has ever described worship like that before. Not to me. I...my reasons are what they are. Good or not, this is the only way. I have already failed so many people. I cannot fail my God too." His words were strong, but there was a thread of uncertainty hidden throughout them.</p><p>"Whoever's mentoring you is an asshole," Nicky breathed out, unable to help himself. "Fear and awe I can understand, but..." He shrugged a bit, the action slightly jerky. He looked toward Booker and then away, cheeks slightly pink. "Worship should be like good sex."</p><p>Joe gave a snort of laughter. "I said that."</p><p>"Well, it's true. It should suffuse you. Overwhelm you. Until you can't really think of anything else."</p><p>"...I wonder, then, what seminary you attended, if you view worship as such a...<em>sexual</em> thing. It's blasphemy." Booker said, with little conviction. "We must fear God because He knows us. We must fear what He knows of our souls. I can think of nothing else but God's wrath. I failed Him. Is that not worship, then? The fear? The overwhelming, suffusing fear?"</p><p>Nicky laughed a bit. "Trust me, I didn't learn that in seminary. I was a terrified thing, sure that I was made to be an example of what not to, who not to be." He rubbed his hands over his jeans again, the action grounding. "I was scared for a long time. God has a plan for everyone, right? He's made us to be who we are, which means that I was made to be who and what I am, and you were made to be who you are, whatever you are, buried under all that fear."</p><p>Joe tilted his head, catching Booker's eye, pushing with the smallest bit of intent. "What's got you so scared, Booker?"</p><p>Without his conscious thought, Booker's hand reached for Nicky's, resting gently on top of it to stop Nicky's restless movement and soothe him. His hand remained there, even when Joe distracted him. He had wanted to bare his soul the moment he met them, but had refrained from such a crazy idea. Just their mere presence exuded such a strange, hypnotic power over him. Now, as Joe's deep eyes bore into his, Booker felt himself topple over the edge.</p><p>"I am...<em>wrong</em>. My wants are unnatural. I am a freak. A sinner. A blasphemer. I...I covet men as I do women. I desire men more than women, more often than not, but there are times when all I can see is a woman's curves. I am broken. I've hid it all my life, but somehow, my wife knew. She found out. She told the whole town. She left me. My sons...my boys, I remember when they only ever looked at me with love. They hate me, now. They call me horrible things. And they're right. I <em>am</em> a freak."</p><p>"You're not a freak, Booker. No more than either of us." Nicky said softly, looking at Booker and gently squeezing his hand. "You are talking to a very weird gay couple on the steps of a Catholic church and one of the two of us was going to be a priest. Hint: it's the very gay Italian one." He smiled, soft and sad. "Your wife was cruel to do what she did."</p><p>"You said before when we were walking here that this is a city to reinvent yourself in. Maybe Booker-the-Deacon is attempt number one, and we can find happier alternatives than burying your sadness in abstinence. I know a lot of fun clubs." Joe said with an impish grin. "But seriously, though, there's nothing wrong with you."</p><p>Booker shivered when Nicky squeezed his hand. God above, but he was starved for touch and affection. He didn't even look around when he raised Nicky's hand to his lips, but luckily, they were still alone. He kissed Nicky's hand, a chaste and gentle thing, in thanks.</p><p>"This is all I know, now." He murmured against soft skin. "Who I was, was wrong. If what I am now is wrong, what is left to me?" He asked, so lost and thrown off-kilter.</p><p>Nicky lifted the hand not held by Booker to rest over the crown of his head as if he were giving benediction. "Take a deep breath. Hold it, let it out. Once that's done, the three of us are going to find somewhere more quiet to talk, how does that sound?"</p><p>For a moment, Booker hesitated. He closed his eyes. Did he really want to follow these strange men away from all he'd known? He felt like he was standing at a crossroads. Even if it was just for coffee, this was a huge departure from his routine, his cycle of penance and prayer. Did he want this?</p><p>He took a deep breath. He held it. He let it out. He opened his eyes.</p><p>"It sounds...good."</p><p>Nicky's smile was wide and genuine. He stood up, still letting Booker's fingers tangle with his as long as he wanted to let it happen. "How about we go somewhere you want? It doesn't have to be your place, but somewhere you feel safe." Nicky watched Booker a moment. "Or we can wait until another day." He really didn't want to, he wanted to take the chance while Booker's walls were down, but he didn't want to risk Booker bolting.</p><p>"...My apartment is the only place I feel safe in, and even that is a fragile thing. We can go there. If you want to." Booker looked at Joe. After another moment's hesitation, he offered Joe his other hand.</p><p>Joe peered at the offered hand but took it without pause and offered an easy smile. He stroked his thumb over the back of Booker's hand, pushing some low-level pleasant vibes into the touch. Nothing erotic, but soft and warm. Booker's whole everything screamed about being denied and distressed. As much as Joe desperately wanted a taste, he preferred it when the people he was with were enjoying themselves just as much as, or even more than, he was. Irony. He was the embodiment of it.</p><p>"Thank you for trusting us."</p><p>"Mm. Sometimes, you just need to talk to a perfect stranger who won't judge you." Nicky mirrored Joe's action, stroking the back of Booker's hand.</p><p>Booker blushed, stepped off of the stairs, and lead them back through the city.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In a very short time, they were back in front of the lions. Booker led them up to his flat on the top floor. It was a spartan affair, a studio apartment with a tiny kitchen and living space, a half-wall hiding the bed, and a small bathroom. Beyond a table and some secondhand chairs, Booker had almost nothing to call his own. It was very obvious that he was dirt poor, as befit a man of God, apparently.</p><p>"Um...would you like tea? I have some left, I think. I can't offer you much, I'm afraid."</p><p>"Water is fine." Nicky said, moving over to the small pile of books left on an old chair and tilted his head to read the spines. Most of them seemed to be on ethics and morality. He spotted a worn copy of <em>Tristan and Iseult</em>, and sitting on the top of the pile, turned down and open to preserve its place, was <em>Paradise Lost</em>. "You know, your German and your English is quite good, but your accent is French, yes?"</p><p>Nicky picked up the copy of Milton's book to examine how far in Booker had gone. He caught Joe's eye as he peered over the top of the pages. Joe was no doubt thinking the same he was: this poor, broken man was going to be theirs, spoiled and shown just how good things could be when you gave into temptation.</p><p>"I'm from Marseilles. Born and raised in a nearby village. It was...idyllic, I suppose." Booker shrugged, looking very French in that moment. "And you are Italian. And you, Joe?" He came back over, waters in hand. "Please, sit. It's not much, but it's home."</p><p> "I'm from all over, but originally Tunisia." He took the water and sat down in one of the offered chairs and crossed his legs. "I've been to Marseilles, almost went to school there, funnily enough, at Paul Cézanne. I love port cities."</p><p>"We both do. I'm from Genova. I grew up sailing." Nicky said with a small, wistful smile. "So, you said before you were a librarian and book collector, is this all you brought with you?"</p><p>"That is one of the few faults with Cologne, the lack of a sea port. I miss the sea. If you're born to it, you always miss it, I think." Booker's smile was equally as wistful. He sat on the last chair, grimacing as it creaked ominously.</p><p>"<em>Ouí.</em> My wife got nearly everything in the divorce, and the rest of it, I had to sell. Lawyer's fees, child support, although my youngest is now too old for it. These were the only ones I managed to keep." He ran his fingertips down the spines of the nearest stack books. A <em>Collected Works of Pablo Neruda</em>, not rare, but sentimental. A first edition of <em>The Divine Comedy</em> in English. An old, almost ancient print of <em>The Hunchback of Notre Dame</em> in the original French. And finally, a rare, illustrated edition of <em>20,000 Leagues Under The Sea</em>, also in English. The books on ethics and morality were borrowed from the church. These, along with <em>Tristan and Iseult</em> and <em>Paradise Lost</em>, were his alone. They were all he had left, the remnants of a once grand collection.</p><p>Nicky watched Booker for a long moment, gauging his temperament. "So, in an ideal world, what would a good day look like to you? What would make you happiest?" He gestured to their surroundings. "A small place to call yours, full of books? A big stately home with lots of space and animals? Friends? A lover?"</p><p>Booker leaned back in his chair, looking down at the glass of water in his hands. Should he tell the truth, or should he give the answer God demanded of him? "...All my life, the answer has been whatever people expected of me. I...barely know the truth myself." A half-truth, a half-lie. He dared to look up at Nicky. "I...I should want to spend every day in church, kneeling on the cold floor as I pray for forgiveness. I should want to be back with my ex-wife and my children. I <em>should.</em>"</p><p>Nicky smiled, just the faintest hint, and rested his arms on the table as he leaned forward. "Should you? Or should you stop denying those feelings and ignoring those doubts? I'm not here to make a decision for you, or to push you toward a conclusion. I just want you to try and understand that from my perspective, I see a man who is struggling with himself, trying desperately to do what he thinks is right, instead of following his heart." He rolled the glass of water between his palms. "If I were to throw this water on your books you should - according to Gospel - not give a damn. They're just things. But you would. You'd care. You'd get angry. Maybe even want to hit me. Maybe even follow through on the action. Why care more about your things than yourself?"</p><p>And there it was, the awful truth: Booker felt, no, he <em>knew,</em> that he was worthless. Nothing. No one. Undeserving of life and happiness.</p><p>But...how much of this was him, and how much of this was the church? Look at Nicky. He left the seminary, and he seems...happy. Happy without blindly serving God. And he had Joe, beautiful Joe, who spoke with honeyed words and lustful looks. Could Booker have that? Did he deserve it? Did he dare to try?</p><p>"...I want to live by the sea. Far away from everyone else. I want a house big enough for my books, but small enough to feel like a home. I want to swim in the ocean whenever I feel like it. I want to sail along the coast without fearing my responsibilities back home. I want to eat good food and cook for the ones I love. I want to listen to music and discuss philosophy and quote poetry without being laughed at. I want to restore books and make new ones and read until my eyes scream at me, and then I'll read a little more. I want my sons to come in and out as much as they please, always happier when they leave than when they came. I never want to see my ex-wife ever again. I want a lover, or two, or a dozen, all of whom love me as I love them. I never want to hide my desires ever again. I want to laugh at God and walk backwards into Hell if it means I get to be free. I want...everything."</p><p>Over Booker's shoulder, hidden from sight and looking squarely in Nicky's direction, Joe's smile was vicious and victorious. He stemmed it slowly into a friendly grin and curled a hand on Booker's shoulder. "Now that sounds like a life worth living. I'm sure we can help you get there, not with everything, maybe, but..." He let his hand slide from Booker's shoulder to rest back on the table. "If you want our help, I know that I for one would offer my services towards eating good food and talking poetry."</p><p>"And I'd definitely be happy to discuss philosophy and cook and sail and help forget responsibilities." Nicky said with a small smile. "I've been told I can be very distracting."</p><p>Booker shook himself out of his strange mood, frowning at them. "But you barely even know me. I barely even know you. And...I am still a sinner. Worth very little, if anything." That old self-loathing began to creep back in after his brief moment of bravery.</p><p>Nicky fought the urge to sigh but did let himself frown as he reached for both of Booker's hands and squeezed them. "We'll get to know each other, then. Like I said, I'm not here to force you into any changes, just to talk in an impartial manner. I can't officially take confession, but I can offer a kind ear." He rubbed his thumbs over the line of Booker's knuckles. "You're no worse a sinner than I am. Do you think I'm not deserving of the life I have?" He paused and arched a brow, slightly impish and teasing.</p><p>"Do you have an old-fashioned discipline? I'm not judging you, my roommate in seminary practiced mortification." He slid his hands away from Booker's to settle back in his lap. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease you."</p><p>"I don't. I live simply. I deny myself sinful pleasures when I can. Mortification seems...barbaric, even to someone like me." Booker’s heart rate increased a bit as Nicky touched him. Punishment to be cruel? No. But when it was doled out by a loving hand? Well...the thought thrilled him. A firm hand on his cheek, giving him what he needed, when he needed it and reigning him in, sounded heavenly. He leaned towards Nicky as his hand withdrew, a reed bowing to the wind.</p><p>"And what do you get out of this, Nicky? And you, Joe? What is the price of your comfort?"</p><p>"Friendship." Nicky said simply, Joe nodded as well. "Like we said, we're new, you're still fairly new. Even if your life doesn't change, that doesn't stop you from having friends, right?" Joe shifted a bit so that he was in Booker's line of sight. "Someone to get you groceries if you're sick or watch a football match with you or invite you over for dinner?"</p><p>Nicky rested his elbow on the table and dropped his chin into his palm as he watched Booker. "Plus, I get a new church to visit and enjoy Mass. And someone to argue theology with, but only if you want to. If you don't want us around, say no more. We'll leave and never bother you again."</p><p>"You have no idea how much I want you around." Booker blurted out. He froze, blushing, before pushing through. "All right, then. Yes. Please, stay. For as long as you want."</p><p>Nicky smiled softly. "Well, all right then, but I think you've had a pretty trying day and it's not even noon. We should let you digest everything." He shifted, reaching for his bag and pulling out a small pad and pen. He scribbled something down and tore off the sheet. "My number and email." He rested it on top of the stack of books. "You should rest, think things over."</p><p>"As you wish." Booker stood with them, walking them to the door. He paused, then bit his lip. "...Sébastien. That's the name I was born with. Sébastien."</p><p>Nicky paused in the doorway, offering his hand. "Nice to meet you, Sébastien. I'm Nicolò."</p><p>Booker took his hand, grasping it tight, like a lifeline. "Until tomorrow, Nicolò."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading, and let us know what you think in the comments below!</p><p>Title from "Sympathy For The Devil" by The Rolling Stones.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I Ran To The Devil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>But the Lord said, "Go to the devil"<br/>The Lord said, "Go to the devil"<br/>He said, "Go to the devil"<br/>All on that day<br/>So I ran to the devil, he was waiting<br/>I ran to the devil, he was waiting<br/>Ran to the devil, he was waiting<br/>All on that day</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In which dinner is had, secrets are revealed, and a room is offered.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again! We hope you enjoy this new chapter!</p><p>Tags and Content Warning:</p><p>Blasphemy, Consensual Infidelity (Joe is a concubus and needs to feed and cannot feed from Nicky), Blood (a finger is cut on accident)</p><p>(And The Bashing of English Literature. One of the authors does NOT like "A Tale Of Two Cities.")</p><p>The poem Booker quotes in his mind is from "Of Endeavours Blue" by Zubair Ahsan.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the fourth round of poker Nicky wanted to slap the smug look off of Joe's face. Joe watched him slowly leaf through contracts until there was a pile of thirty-five on their newly acquired kitchen island. Sliding them over, Nicky took the rest of the large stack and placed it into a lock box which clicked ominously when he closed it and disappeared in a ripple with the strong smell of smoke and the sound of surf.</p><p>"Keep up the smug act, Yusuf, and I'll wipe the smile from your face."</p><p>Joe hummed, shuffling through the new acquisitions as he hooked his foot around the edge of a bar stool and tugged it over to perch on. "Promises, promises, love." He folded them up gently and whisked them away with a flick of the wrist.</p><p>The two of them had gotten most of their house set up except for the painting in the last twenty-four hours; the perks of unlimited money and access to unearthly power. They had been fully settled in for just over a week.</p><p>"He's such a sad thing, isn't he? Like an abused pet. I just want to take care of him." Nicky sighed.</p><p>Joe rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his wine, shaking his head slightly. "Let it never be said that the Man of Sin and False Messiah has a hard heart. You just like picking up strays."</p><p>Nicky poured himself a glass of wine, lazily swirling it. "I like helping people achieve their true potential. He has promise. He could be something wondrous if he let himself. He's just been denying himself his whole life."</p><p>"A nudge in the right direction. A slow walk down a path of good intention."  Joe said with a smile and a raise of the glass.</p><p>Nicky toasted his glass off of Joe's, smiling as the façade of humanity fell from him, leaving Joe all but glowing under the dim light: skin luminous with hints of bronze and the faintest glimpses of orange, eyes red, androgynous but strong and chiseled. Divine. Infernal. Wondrous.</p><p>Rolling his own shoulders, Nicky ran a hand through his hair as he stopped muffling his own true nature. The walls surrounding them shuddered under the immensity of his being and Nicky closed his eyes. "Besides, I need worshipers, no?"  He said it with a mix of conviction and tiredness.</p><p>"And worshipers you shall have, my dear. Supplicant and adoring. Fearful and awestruck. But tonight is for us, yes?"</p><p>Nicky nodded once, firmly. "Yes."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Ave Maria. </em>
</p><p>Booker knelt before the alter in church, saying his final prayers for the night before heading home. His eyes were closed, his hands folded as he recited the Latin by rote. <em>Ave Maria</em>. The words flowed from his lips like holy water, burning and chastising his tongue. He felt the holy word cleanse him of his happiness and give him the misery he deserved.</p><p>
  <em>Ave Maria. </em>
</p><p>Nicky's eyes flashed before him, opening slowly and lazily. His full lips pulled into a soft, seductive smile. Joe's warm laughter rang in his ears like church bells. His dexterous hands gestured at nothing. <em>Ave...Maria...</em> Booker stiffened as the final words dissipated into nothing. He felt aroused and needy, desperate to see his friends again. The other worshipers milled around him as he forced himself to walk at a normal pace. His fingers itched to open his phone. He wanted them. He needed them.</p><p>
  <em>Ave Maria. Mea culpa. Mea culpa maxima.</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Nicky peered down at his phone as it vibrated and the screen flashed to life. Private number. He switched his attention from the osso buco he was making and pressed the answer button and the speaker function. "Hello?"</p><p>He uncorked the wine to deglaze the pan and carefully poured it in, shaking and working the fond from the bottom.</p><p>"Nicky?" Booker's voice was shaky. He stood in an alcove just outside the church grounds. The night was falling, and all he knew was that he needed to not be alone. He needed <em>them</em>.</p><p>Nicky blinked at his phone. "Sébastien! Good evening." He turned the heat off as he transferred everything to the pressure cooker. "I hope your day has gone well." He added the crushed tomatoes to the pot before wiping his hands and adding in the last bit of herbs. "Have you eaten?"</p><p>"N-No...I haven't. The bishop visited today, so I have spent all day fasting. The priest needed all of us there to impress him. I...um..." He had no idea how to ask for what he needed.</p><p>"Are you allowed to eat red meat today?" Nicky glanced toward the calendar; he was pretty sure it wasn't a feast day. "If not, I can make you something vegetarian." He latched the lid to the pressure cooker. "Wait, let me rephrase: would you like to come over for dinner?"</p><p>"No, it's not a feast day. The church needs extra funds, so the priest was appealing to the bishop for more." Booker rambled. "Oh! Yes! Please! Th-Thank you!" He stammered, desperate for company.</p><p>Nicky smiled and leaned against the counter. "Well, if you don't mind waiting a little bit, you're more than welcome to join us for dinner." He rattled off the address. It would be a few metro stops from where Booker was. "It will be nice to see you again."</p><p>"And you. Texts don't quite do it for me." Booker grinned, relieved at the invitation. He headed for the station. "I'm sure your home is nicer than mine. I'll see you in a few, then. I'll lose reception underground."</p><p>"We'll be here." Nicky assured before ending the call and putting the phone down. "Joe!" He moved toward the stairs to the basement and opened the door. "Joe!"</p><p>The cacophony of pleasured sighs and sounds ceased for a long moment and Joe's head peered around the edge of the staircase, eyes shining in the dim light. "I'm a little busy, Nico."</p><p>"Booker's coming for dinner."</p><p>Joe's face broke out in a grin. "I'll clear my schedule."</p><p>"And shower!" Nicky yelled down the stairs as the sounds resumed, closing the door, content to leave Joe to his feeding.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>About half an hour later, Booker knocked on Joe and Nicky's door. He looked tired, more so than when they'd seen him last, but he was giddy with nerves and excitement. It should scare him, how badly he craved the attention of these men, but he needed it too badly to care. His texts with Nicky were philosophical and gentle, like sharing a cool glass of wine with a friend on a warm night. His texts with Joe were flirty and poetic (on Joe's part, at least) and stuttering on Booker's part. Still, it was company, and good company too.</p><p>Nicky answered the door, the sleeves of his button down rolled up to his elbows. He wore comfortable jeans, and his hair was pulled back from his face with glasses on his nose. His soft expression brightened at the sight of Booker and he offered a wide smile.</p><p>"Hello again, Sébastien. Come in, please take off your shoes, we have slippers if you want some, the floor can get quite cold." He stepped aside to let Booker into the front entrance. "Also, I apologize for some of the blandness, we're still getting some things delivered. Art, mostly. We had furniture on standby, thankfully."</p><p>Turning to let Booker take off his coat and shoes, Nicky leaned toward the staircase just to the left of the door. "Joe!"</p><p>"I'll be down in a minute! Hi, Booker! I'm sorry, I got caught up in work and wanted to shower!" Joe's voice was slightly muffled and frantic.</p><p>Nicky turned his attention back to Booker and smiled again. "Coffee?"</p><p>"It's okay. You and Joe are more than enough to look at." Booker grinned, relaxing immensely as he took off his shoes and handed over his jacket. "Hello Joe! Take your time!" He shouted up. "Coffee sounds lovely, <em>mon ami</em>. The train was crowded, but cold." He followed Nicky further inside. "What are you cooking? It smells heavenly."</p><p>"Osso buco, and then I'll fry polenta for the side since I didn't feel like making risotto." Nicky said, moving to the kitchen and fiddling with the coffee pod machine before setting a mug under it. He gestured to one of the high chairs at the island for Booker to sit.</p><p>"<em>Merci.</em>" Booker sat, sighing with relief. "I've been on my knees all day. The priest wanted a show of total piety. The bishop wanted more wine. He's a hypocrite, <em>mon ami.</em> They say he was transferred here because of a certain scandal involving some women of the night...and their sons." Booker laughed, but it was a cynical, cruel thing.</p><p>"If Joe were here, he'd make an innuendo joke about Catholic boys being best on their knees," Nicky replied, expression a mix of exasperated and fond. He put the mug in front of Booker when it finished brewing. "Something-something-corruption and hypocrisy, something-something-Catholic-guilt."</p><p>He grinned as he slid into his own seat and took a sip of his own coffee. "The Church, as an organization, that is, I've come to realize is all about ‘do as I say, not as I do.’ People are capable of good, but the institution has become fetid. Doesn't stop me, though. Mostly it's tradition. What else am I going to do with my Sunday morning?"</p><p>"Lying in bed with me would be the ideal scenario." Joe said, walking into the kitchen. He rounded the island on his way to the fridge, dropping a kiss on top of Nicky's head as he passed. He opened the fridge to pull out a bottle of water and rested it against the side of his still slightly damp neck and sighed. "However, it's an argument I've lost more than once."</p><p>Booker's gaze was fixed on Joe as he walked by. He licked his lips without thinking when Joe sighed. His eyes followed a droplet of water down Joe's neck. "Tradition can be a comfort, but it can also be a crutch." Here, with them, he felt safe enough to speak freely. He relaxed and let down some of his walls. "Back home...the men who condemned me and feared that I was lusting for them...half of them were adulterers. The others were miserly, or wife-beaters, or those who profane. The women were also adulterers, or liars, or they beat their children. No one was free from sin. No one."</p><p>"Mmm, what's the old adage? ‘When you point a finger at someone, three point back at you?’ Seems appropriate." Nicky watched Booker for a moment, then flicked his eyes toward Joe. "He's like a poodle when he's fresh from the shower."</p><p>"I didn't want to drip water everywhere, I had to dry it quick." Joe gently patted a soft bunch of curls, the action almost self-conscious.</p><p>"I know. I like it." Nicky stood from his spot to move to the fridge to pull out the bowl of polenta, retied his apron, and pulled out a cast iron skillet. "So, other than hypocrisy and begging, did you have a good day, a good rest?"</p><p>"Poodles are nowhere near as handsome. Don't worry, Joe. You're still fierce." Booker laughed. "There's no rest for the wicked, I'm afraid. When we weren't praying, we were cleaning or cataloging. I...I haven't rested well. Not since I last saw you. Now, though...now, I feel at peace." Booker smiled softly.</p><p>Joe preened at the compliment and took a sip of his drink, content to watch Nicky cook. "And unlike a poodle I only bite when asked nicely." Nicky smacked Joe's shoulder with the tea towel before carefully flipping the polenta in the skillet and flicking the release on the pressure cooker. "Joe, you're a menace."</p><p>"Am I?" Joe teased back, smiling around the neck of the bottle.</p><p>"To society. Why do I put up with you?"</p><p>"I can think of severa— hey!" Joe laughed, dodging another swat. "No rest for the wicked indeed. Glad you can relax a bit. Nico's cooking could almost warm the soul."</p><p>"Dinner and a show, just for me? Gentlemen, I'm flattered!" Booker laughed loudly, real, genuine joy pouring off of him in waves. For a moment, the weight on his soul was gone and his eyes sparkled. "I haven't seen a love like this before. I'm grateful to you, for letting me see this." If his voice was a bit wistful, he didn't notice.</p><p>Joe turned his head a bit more toward Booker, smiling enough that his eyes crinkled with it. "Now that's a good sound."</p><p>"Laughter suits you, Bastien,” Nicky said, stealing a glance over his shoulder.</p><p>Bastien. A nickname. A real nickname. A pet name, almost. "Booker" had been his own invention, a lie and a cover up. Now, though, hearing "Bastien" fall from Nicky's lips pleased him to no end and made "Booker" sound inadequate.</p><p>He blushed but held their gazes. "You think so, Nico?"</p><p>"Mhm." Nicky carefully pulled the polenta out and onto paper towel before sprinkling it with parmesan. He licked the excess salt from his fingers, moving as Joe got up to get plates and set them down.</p><p>"Joy is a good look for you." Joe said, picking up the coffee mugs to rinse before replacing them with glasses of water. "I know I'm more than a little pleased to be bringing you delight. Even if it's at my own expense."</p><p>Booker stood up and took the silverware from Joe and began placing it. "Let me help, <em>mon ami.</em>" They wove around each other with ease, setting up the table perfectly. "Joy is...I forgot what it felt like." Booker shrugged. He offered to help Nicky carry the hot dishes to the table. "You two have me so confused, to be honest. I have so many questions, but I'm afraid to ask them."</p><p>"You can ask whatever you want, that's the point of a friendship, right? Sometimes asking the uncomfortable things." Joe set a plate down and then gestured to sit. "Trust me, I highly doubt you can shock either one of us."</p><p>"Tell you what, we can do a quid pro quo: we tell you something, innocent or not, and you share something, whatever you're comfortable with sharing." Nicky said, sitting down himself. "That way you don't feel as if you're interrogating us and we get to grow closer."</p><p>"And then we'll play Spin The Bottle later?" Booker teased, taking a seat gratefully. "All right. That sounds fine. You can go first, then. As the host." He said a quick prayer before taking a bite and moaning. "This is wonderful!"</p><p>"I think we're a little old for that." Joe said with a wink before taking a bite of his own meal with a happy hum.</p><p>Nicky smiled at Booker and then took a long sip of wine before setting it down. "This is the first meal my grandmother taught me."</p><p>"She must have been an amazing cook." Booker nodded, swallowing another bite. "My mother taught me to make <em>coq au vin,</em> even though my father said it was women's work. My...my sons said it was their favorite meal when I made it."</p><p>"She ran restaurant," Nicky said by way of explanation, dipping some of the polenta into the jus before biting it.</p><p>"I'm not very good with cooking, but I can bake. I love making bread." Joe said, figuring he might as well jump in on the game. "What's on your mind? Confusion and curiosity, mm? Ask away."</p><p>Booker swallowed down his nervousness. "...How did you meet? And...how...how did you know? That...That you weren't wrong?"</p><p>Nicky and Joe shared a look before Nicky carefully put his utensils down. "I've known I was different from a young age. Probably around six or seven. I noticed that I looked at the world a bit differently, that I had questions. I tried to push it down for a long time. I didn't date, I didn't bother looking at people, I...struggled for a really long time." He twisted his fingers in the material of his napkin.</p><p>"When I said that I was struggling the other day, when I was in seminary, it was for a lot of reasons. I started having real doubts about religious idealism. I started to get jaded. One of the ordinands committed suicide and no one would talk about it. It became a secret. We weren't supposed to acknowledge him. Weren't supposed to pray for him. I went to his funeral even though I was advised against it. I met some people outside of seminary with similar thoughts, we started a support group and...I was um...kicked out. Of seminary. I was shunned from my local church and I was really, really angry. I did some things that were...shall we say…ill-advised. Irrational. One of those things included a three day long underground party in Amsterdam where I was apparently almost a statistic, except tall-dark-and-romantic here swooped in and saved my ass."</p><p>Joe squeezed Nicky's arm and shot a smile to Booker. "Nicky likes to call it destiny. I call it luck and good timing. Either way, I managed—with friends—to get him where he needed to go, made sure he didn't need medical attention and dropped him off with his friends. Got a call two days later thanking me and asking if he could buy me a coffee for the trouble."</p><p>It was one hell of a story. Booker leaned back in his seat, his food forgotten for the moment. If he had been allowed any semblance of freedom in his younger years, he could have ended up like Nicky: nearly a statistic. It was both lucky and unlucky that he was sent to a religious university. Granted, he had still had many tastes of wickedness there, but still. Forgery was a lesser crime than hedonism, apparently. "...I am glad that Joe found you, <em>mon ami.</em> I could not imagine a world where I did not meet you." Booker shivered, overwhelmed by emotion. "Ask...Ask me something..."</p><p>Joe took a bite of food while he thought about a question. "Top three books in any language."</p><p>"Joe, you can't ask the <em>impossible</em>."</p><p>"Okay, okay. Top three books in French."</p><p>Booker sighed quietly, glad for the break in the tension. "<em>The Hunchback of Notre Dame. The Stranger.</em> And <em>The Count of Monte Cristo.</em>" He tilted his head, studying Joe. "What is your favorite food?"</p><p>"Hm. That's a difficult answer. I think...I mean tajine always has a special place in my heart, but I honestly think ice cream. Simple strawberry and basil ice cream." Joe smiled softly. He sucked on the tines of his fork before turning to take a sip of his water.</p><p>Joe turned his attention onto Booker again, indicating his food in a silent manner of encouraging him to eat. "Do you have a book you despise that everyone else lauds?"</p><p>"I've never tried it. Perhaps we could go get some sometime?" Booker took another mouthful of his osso buco. He moaned again as he swallowed. "Still amazing." He smiled at Nicky before turning back to Joe. "<em>A Tale of Two Cities.</em> It's stupid! It's long and boring in the worst way. He sacrifices himself for a woman who does not love him and barely cares that he's there. And everyone just makes horrible decisions all the time!" He started ranting, obviously enthusiastic about pointing out the book's failings.</p><p>"I can't stand Dickens," Joe breathed out. "Everyone praises him, and his writing is bland. He's proof that the English take the good out of everything." He shared a look with Booker. "They think that just because of Chaucer and Shakespeare that they've gifted the world with literature, let alone the amazing works in India, or Iran, or China, or the oral traditions in Australia. It's like when people ask for something to be translated. I understand the idea of mass appeal and audience, but things are lost when you lose the original context and things can be misinterpreted."</p><p>"It's why Joe got me a Bible in Koine Greek for our first anniversary, said I should read it in the language it was written in. He had a point. If you look at older texts in Syriac and Ge'ez, there are aspects of Scripture that are warped in English and then warped again when modernized. Sometimes things need to be read in the understanding of the time and place something was written. <em>Les Miserables</em> is fine in English but better in French, Faust loses meaning without Prussian wordplay."</p><p>Dear God, Booker was falling in love from this alone. "Fuck the English." He nodded sagely. "I only know French and English, and a little German. I never had time to learn Greek or Latin or Russian. I want to, though. Perhaps...you could read them to me? Someday?" Booker took a moment to collect his thoughts and take a drink.  "My turn, then. Nicky...Tell me...if you could run away to anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?"</p><p>"If I could run away...?" Nicky tapped his fingers to his chin before pulling off his glasses to clean them on the hem of his shirt. "Somewhere with a coastline. Spain, maybe? Or Argentina, right down at the tip near Tierra del Fuego, the edge of the world. Have you seen pictures?" He slid his glasses back on and pulled out his phone before tapping at it and turning it around to show Booker.</p><p>Booker leaned in, fascinated the natural beauty of the place. "It looks wonderful. When I was a boy, I'd read stories about travelers who'd go on long voyages across the sea to the edge of the world. I wanted to be like them. I guess I've always wanted to run away." He looked up at Nicky. "Your turn."</p><p>"My turn?" Nicky held up his plate as Joe gathered the dishes. "What's another thing that you want us to answer from your list?"</p><p>A flush spread across Booker's cheeks. "Ah. Um. Well." He tried to stall for time, but he had nowhere to hide, and Nicky was giving him such a supportive look. "When you meant that worship should be pleasurable, adoration and devotion...what did you mean?"</p><p>Nicky's mouth parted a bit in shock, and he pulled over his wine to take a long sip before setting the glass down and licking his lips. "To put it bluntly?" He looked over his shoulder toward Joe, who was diligently washing plates. Joe paused in his motions and he and Nicky exchanged a long series of looks before Nicky looked back to Booker.</p><p>"Okay first, before I answer this and potentially scare you off for good, you had a wife and children, so clearly the two of you were intimate. Did you enjoy yourself when the two of you were together?"</p><p>Booker was thrown off by the strange question, but since he had asked one himself, he supposed that it was only fair. "Yes. I think so. I came. She came. It was very...how do you say? Repetitive? Bland? But we both had an orgasm, and isn't that the point? Sex was for making children and nothing more."</p><p>Joe made an affronted noise in the direction of the sink but said nothing as Nicky cleared his throat. "Okay, so..." He swirled the glass through his fingers, expression thoughtful. "That would explain the disconnect. You've never had an experience with another person that was...solely for pleasure?" He sucked on his lower lip, brows knit in thought. "Okay, I think the only way to convey this is to be honest: the first time Joe took me to bed, it took four and a half hours before...you know..."</p><p>"Before you came?" Booker leaned back in his chair again. "And no. Never just for pleasure. Manon refused."</p><p>"Before I <em>let</em> him." Joe answered, drying his hands. "I told him I was going to take my time and make sure he knew what it was to be the center of my universe."</p><p>Nicky pointed to Joe. "Worship." He let his hand curl around his glass again. "It was...kind of transformative in a lot of ways."</p><p>Booker's lower lip was red and full from how badly he'd worried it with his teeth. His cheeks were flushed. He could see it in his mind's eye: Nicky, his pale body spread out over red satin sheets, naked and panting as Joe, equally naked, wrung sinful sounds from his lover's body. Arousal flooded his senses. His grip on his glass tightened, close to shattering it. "And so this...this is how one should feel when worshiping God?" He wasn't so sure that they were speaking of God anymore.</p><p>"It's how I felt. I don't know what Nicky was feeling, but I honestly felt like I was." Joe said, eyes slipping over Booker's expression. The heat and arousal rolling waves of want were almost enough to make his mouth water. It was almost enough to make him feel drunk if he let himself wade into it for just the barest hint of a taste.</p><p>"Was it love, then? When you first came together?" Booker whispered, almost as if he were hoping that they didn't hear him. "Is it even possible to truly love God, when He is the cause of all fears?"</p><p>"If not love, then affection for sure. Devotion. I honestly never had anyone look at me or treat me like I was special." Nicky replied voice just as soft. "I think that so many people think of God's love as conditional. It shouldn't be. Whomever, whatever, you worship should be complete and whole on both sides of the relationship. What's the point of worshiping a god who won't love you back?"</p><p>"Then what is the point of God, then, if I cannot know if He loves me?" Booker's eyes were fixed on his wine, noting how much it looked like blood in the dining room light.</p><p>"That becomes the question, then." Nicky said, leaning forward to cross his arms on top of the counter. "Some religions believe that God created everything and stepped back to let humanity do what it wished. Some people think that God is distant as a test. I've just come to realize I don't know. I know God is out there somewhere doing something and I'm just trying to figure out what I'm meant to do."</p><p>"Have you found an answer yet, <em>mon ange?</em>" Booker murmured.</p><p>"I found an answer, and it's simply that an aspect of divinity lives in all of us in some way or another."  Nicky said, draining his glass.</p><p>"That is profound, but hardly comforting." Booker grinned wryly. "If we are made in God's image, then maybe God is a bit of a bastard, like me."</p><p>Joe laughed at that. "Definitely a bit of a bastard. When you asked me about what I worship the other day and I gave you a vague answer, well, now you know why, a little bit." Joe smoothed his hands over Nicky's shoulders as he stepped behind him. "I found my supplication and truth with Nico. I don't need anyone else."</p><p>Nicky reached up and patted one of Joe's hands. "You're sweet." He stood up and stretched, letting Joe move back. "Before things get too maudlin, how about a tour, eh, Bastien?"</p><p>"....<em>Oui.</em>" Booker stood as well, looking at Joe with a new perception of him. To worship another man, a mere mortal, was beyond his understanding. Or perhaps not. He could see the open devotion and adoration in Joe's eyes, and it was reflected in Nicky's as well. Their love was deep and profound. He was jealous, but he also wished he could be a part of it. Just a taste... "A tour would be nice."</p><p>Nicky rolled the sleeves of his shirt back down, re-buttoning the cuffs as he made is way over to Booker. "Well, clearly you've seen the kitchen. Do you have any place in particular you want to see? We have the start of Joe's studio unpacked, most of our books..." Nicky laughed a bit. "I just realized we don't have much to show you."</p><p>"I'd like to see it all if you're willing. A studio, you say? Are you an artist, Joe? Or a musician?" Booker let the others lead the way.</p><p>"I'm a bit of everything when it comes to art, but mostly painting and photography and poetry. I'd be happy to show you some but it's rather risqué." Joe led them up to the second floor where there was a bathroom and a partly open door leading to a room with large, wrapped objects and floor to ceiling windows. "It's not much right now." He pushed the door open and motioned Booker inside. "Sorry for the clutter."</p><p>Most of the unwrapped canvases were blank, and those that weren't rested with their work facing the wall, a few Polaroids were stuck to a small corkboard on a desk. Supplies were piled in one corner to be unboxed. Joe picked up a portfolio book and held it out toward Booker for him to file through. It was filled with life sketches, some photographs of shibari and other BDSM photos, as well as conceptual horror art and vague half-finished poems.</p><p>Booker slowly flipped through the portfolio, entranced by each new piece of art. Joe was a master. His eyes roved over the pages, his fingertips skimming over the plastic covering harsh charcoal lines and smooth pencil work. The photographs could belong in the MOMA. He read the poetry and felt himself moved beyond words, tears coming to his eyes.</p><p>"You're a genius, Joe. I mean that sincerely." Booker gasped as he traced over a sketch. It was a man, his face obscured, wrapped in silken ropes in a harness pattern. He ached to touch whoever this was, to taste their power and vulnerability.</p><p>"I try. I sell some of them, but honestly I just like sharing it." Joe said with a smile. "I like to try different mediums and sometimes different kinds of subjects that people may not always enjoy, but art is meant to get a reaction and cause conversation."</p><p>"He's just lucky he comes from independent wealth, so he doesn't have to work." Nicky teased softly.</p><p>"Nicky, both of your parents are diplomats, you're wealthier than I am!" Joe retorted, rolling his eyes. "The lies this man tells! Ow! That was my ear."</p><p>Even though he laughed at their antics, Booker was still captivated by Joe's art. He has moved on to the last page, which was a painting of bright blue eyes. The power and command in them, the ancient anger and righteous fury, the deep-seated love and desire…it was captivating. It took him a few moments to place those eyes. "This is you, isn't it, Nico?"</p><p>"Hm?" Nicky craned his neck, moving to stand next to Booker and peer down at the artwork. The eyes were ringed in white gold around the iris. Nicky felt something in him clench. "Oh." He looked up toward Joe, then back down to the piece. "I've never seen this one before." It was in watercolor, a newer style for Joe. "When did you do this?"</p><p>"A few nights ago, when I couldn't sleep."</p><p>"The emotion you captured...its breathtaking." Booker looked up at Joe, that same look in his eyes as he had earlier when discussing literature. "With just his eyes, I can read so many things. So many emotions."</p><p>Joe beamed at the compliment, rolling his shoulders proudly and puffing up his chest a bit. "Thank you. My Nicolò is a very strong but fickle muse." He moved past Booker to pick up a plastic folder and held it out to him. "You can have it if you want. You didn't have any art in your apartment and that's a shame."</p><p>"Really? Thank you!" Booker's smile could light up the darkest night. A gift! A real gift. He was elated. Now, he'd have a reminder of his friends, no matter what happened. Even if they decided he wasn't worth it, he'd have a piece of them with him always.</p><p>Joe carefully transferred the piece after ensuring it was signed. "I'll put it by the door for you, and then join you and Nicky outside for dessert?"</p><p>"That sounds good." Nicky gently escorted Booker back toward the stairs. "We have lemon cheesecake or ice cream."</p><p>"The cheesecake sounds delicious." Booker leaned into the hand on his back, blushing a little. "Can I help you get it together?"</p><p>"Of course. You can make the tea." Nicky offered, showing Booker where the teapot and loose-leaf teas were. "I'm glad you came to visit tonight. I hope that we've brightened your evening."</p><p>Nicky pulled out the pan of cheesecake and carefully removed the sides before giving a small sigh of relief when it released and didn't collapse. "I have raspberry coulis or candied ginger if you want any on top of your slice."</p><p>"The coulis sounds delightful." Booker placed his hand over Nicky's, his gaze soft. "Thank you for having me over. I have not felt so warm or so welcome...ever. I never want to leave."</p><p>"Well, you're welcome any time, and we have a spare bedroom if you ever get tired of living alone. I promise we're good housemates." He sliced the pieces of cake before spooning the coulis onto Booker's plate. He ran his thumb up the edge of the blade to wipe the crumbs before hissing and jerking his hand back, sucking his thumb into his mouth and dropping the knife into the sink.</p><p>"Your offer is tempting, my friend. I feel safe with you. I'll think on it." Booker set the plates on the table, turning back to Nicky. He saw his friend cut himself, and he hurried over with worry coloring his expression. "<em>Merde!</em> Here, let me look at it." He took Nicky's hand in both of his own. "It doesn't look very deep. See? It's barely even bleeding." Booker caressed the soft skin of Nicky's palm. "It's all right, Nico." He murmured.</p><p>Without hesitation, without thinking, he bent his head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Nicky's wound.</p><p>Nicky blinked at Booker, a bit surprised but not displeased at the reaction he'd gotten. The cut was shallow and when Booker drew his hand in, most of the blood had been sucked away but had begun to bloom again when Booker pressed his lips to the pad of Nicky's thumb, the smallest blot of red on his lower lip when he drew his mouth back. Nicky inhaled sharply, wanting to suck on Booker's lip, wanting to press his thumb deeper in.</p><p>
  <em>This is my body, which is given for you. The new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you... </em>
</p><p>"Sébastien..." Nicky felt breathless and dizzy, similar to the first time Joe had worshipped him. His body felt aflame.</p><p>"Nicolò..." Booker breathed, looking down at the other man. He licked the blood off of his lip, tasting metal and spice on his tongue. He met Nicky's gaze, his eyes widening at the torrent of emotions he found there. Desire, admiration, need. It was overwhelming in the best way. There was no doubt left in his mind, not after this: Nicky wanted him, and if Nicky wanted him, Joe wanted him as well. This meal was an act of friendship, yes, but it was also a testing of the waters. A quiet seduction. A date, if you will. He had known these men for the shortest amount of time, but he felt drawn to them. Still a moth to a flame. He could belong here. He was wanted here.</p><p>"Nico." Booker gasped out his name, his thoughts written plainly across his face.</p><p>Nicky really wanted to kiss him, but it was also a very bad idea. He cupped Booker's chin in his thumb and forefinger before leaning down to press a soft kiss to Booker's forehead. "Thank you." He took one step back, then another, before turning to the sink to turn on the tap and wash his hands and the knife, desperate to control his breathing.</p><p>
  <em>Just a sight of a candle is enough / To remind it of its real beloved / So it settles for that candle in reach, / Revels in its heat, and asks to be burned.</em>
</p><p>Booker had been reading up and coming poets for the last week, trying to distract himself from his thoughts of Nicky and Joe. Moths and flames haunted his dreams, the theme of his life now. He watched Nicky walk away, wanting to reach out and pull him back into his arms. "Always." Booker felt like the word was dragged from his very soul. He stood still, unsure of what to do. The kiss felt like a promise, but the retreat felt like a rejection.</p><p>Nicky turned back once the kettle clicked off the boil and poured the water into the teapot. "Let's go wait outside." He picked up the tray and headed toward the door. "Mind unlatching it and turning on the patio light?"</p><p>"Of course." Booker followed him to the door and dutifully held it open. He flicked on the light, illuminating the patio in a warm glow.</p><p>"Thank you," Nicky said again, setting everything down on the small tables before moving to light the fire-glass pit in the middle of the patio they could gather around. "Not much of an outdoor hideaway but it works."</p><p>"I like it. Space is at a premium here, inside of a city. It makes me miss the seaside, but...well. That's the price of distance, I suppose." Booker shrugged, sitting down.</p><p>Nicky pulled out the small footrests after pouring some of the tea and re-covering the teapot before handing the cup to Booker and sitting back with his own, crossing his legs at the ankles. "At least we have the river here, it's not perfect but it helps. Only a short train ride to the North Sea, but it's a tricky sail." He tipped his head back and peered up toward the sky. He turned his head when he heard the door open and then shut, sliding a bit more toward Booker on the bench as Joe squeezed in next to him. "Oaf. There's plenty of other space."</p><p>"Ah, but I'm right where I want to be." Joe pulled over the plate of cheesecake that had a few pieces of candied ginger and slipped a slice onto his tongue with a happy moan.</p><p>"True. I prefer the Seine, but that might just be the Frenchman in me." Booker shrugged, taking his piece of cheesecake and digging in. He raised an eyebrow at Joe, slowly discovering that he liked teasing the man. "Are you part limpet, <em>mon ami?</em>"</p><p>Joe huffed out a laugh, taking a forkful of cake and giving a pleased noise at the taste. "I think I did a good job, want to try?" He took another forkful and presented it to Nicky, who closed his lips around the fork and then leaned back with an approving moan. "Also, whoever chose the tea, good choice. Lapsang is a fun pairing with lemon."</p><p>"Th-That was N-Nicky." Booker stuttered. Watching Nicky's full lips close around the fork, his jaw working as he chewed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed...fuck, that shouldn't be as hot as it was. Some coulis stained his lips as he failed to pay proper attention to his own food.</p><p>"I'm sure you helped." Joe said with a soft smile before tapping the fork playfully against Nicky's lips and taking a bite for himself. "Would you like a ride home, or if you don't need to get up early, you can stay the night."</p><p>"We don't have much yet for the guest room, just a futon, but you're free to use it." Nicky offered.</p><p>"Do you want me to stay?" Booker asked.</p><p>Nicky turned his head to look at Booker more fully, eyes dark in the firelight. "I'd like it if you stayed. I wasn't kidding when I said you could move in." He smiled warmly. "But only if you want to be here."</p><p>Booker swallowed, his empty plate set aside and forgotten. He felt that he would do anything to see Nicky smile like that. Whatever it took, he would do it. He looked at Joe, who smiled at him with that wicked, but friendly, grin of his. Joe wanted him here too.</p><p>Did he want to stay? All he had to go back to was a lonely apartment that could never feel like home. In the end, the choice was easy. "Yes. I want to stay. With you. With both of you."</p><p>"Well, that decision's been made. We'll help you get your things tomorrow, but tonight I'm afraid it's just a pretty basic room." Joe said with a smile, hooking his chin on Nicky's shoulder and looking over at Booker. "No smoking in the house and if you're going to bring people over let us know and we'll give you the house."</p><p>"I highly doubt I'll be bringing anyone over." Booker laughed, flicking at one of Joe's curls. "And I quit smoking. It is a vice that actually is ugly. And I don't mind simplicity. I am...was...<em>am</em> a deacon." He soldiered on after his stumble. "I can sleep through almost anything, but do I need to get earplugs anyway? And what about rent? I don't want to be a parasite." Booker let his finger trail down Joe's nose, tapping the end of it.</p><p>Joe crinkled his face up. "We'll calculate everything tomorrow when we can go over finances with a clearer head. I don't know how much you get paid. Earplugs? Maybe. We'll see."</p><p>"Oh, we're refinishing the basement right now to make it into a newer workspace so it's a mess. Joe wants to redo the stairs so we're probably going to keep it locked for a bit." Nicky mused for a moment. "Oh, sometimes I have friends who visit, but I promise they're not any weirder than I am. Okay, maybe one of them, but if they try to rile you up just let me know."</p><p>"We've been thinking about getting a cat, are you allergic?" Joe asked, taking a sip of tea.</p><p>"I'm not allergic, although I've always had dogs for pets. I don't mind cats though. Quiet creatures are the friends of all readers." Booker shrugged. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm hard to rile up, so your friends will need to be at the top of their game. You two just have some sort of power over me, I guess."</p><p>Nicky chuckled. "The latent power of homoeroticism." He smirked a bit before stretching out in place. "I'm going to go take a shower before bed, but I'm sure Joe would be happy for company to watch sports."</p><p>Watching Nicky stand and gather his things, Joe tipped his head toward Booker. "Football?"</p><p>"What's your team?" Booker asked as they headed inside. As they bantered about whose team was superior, Booker felt something settle inside of him. For the first time in his life, he felt at peace with both himself and the world. He wanted that feeling to stay forever.</p><p>peace with both himself and the world. He wanted that feeling to stay forever.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title taken from "Sinnerman" by Nina Simone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Shower Your Affection (Let It Rain On Me)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>You need a big god<br/>Big enough to hold your love<br/>You need a big god<br/>Big enough to fill you up</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In which breakfast is served, knots are unwound, first steps are made, and bodies collide in an ancient song.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello and happy February!</p><p>Tags And Content Warnings: </p><p>Blasphemy, Self-Loathing, Emotional Manipulation (In A Literal Sense? It Makes Sense In Context, YMMV, It Is Intended To Help, Not Harm), Self-Punishment (Starvation, It Is Unsuccessful), Unhealthy Catholicism, Handjobs, Consensual Voyeurism, Blood, Biting/Marking, Demonology.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicky woke to the smell of fresh coffee and faint sounds in the kitchen, stretching out in bed before curling back up lazily he reached toward Joe's pillow, his eyes cracking open a bit when he felt the smooth slide of paper under his fingers.</p><p>
  <em>“Gone out. Needed to get fed. Will probably be back later this afternoon. There's a perfectly delicious meal in the guest bedroom now, hope you're pleased with making me wait on this. Bastard.”</em>
</p><p>Smirking, Nicky crumpled the paper and let it fall to ash in his hands. He flopped back onto his own pillow before stealing a glance at the clock. Just past nine, which meant that unless he'd gone first thing, Booker had probably skipped morning service. Delight bloomed in his belly and Nicky pulled himself out of bed and stepped into a pair of well-worn pajama pants and tugged on a shirt before making his way down the stairs.</p><p>True to Nicky's prediction, Booker had skipped morning prayers, but not by choice. He had overslept for the first time since he arrived in Cologne, having forgotten to set his phone alarm. In truth, he was glad for it. It was nice to feel totally rested for once. His religious turmoil still simmered beneath his skin, but he tried to ignore it for now. Instead, Booker made coffee and started in on breakfast. It was the least he could do to repay their kindness. He cut fresh strawberries for the crepes he had just made, the juices staining his fingers as he arranged them on the plate.</p><p>"Good morning, Bastien." Nicky greeted around a yawn and a stretch, running a hand through his rumpled hair. "This smells delicious." He picked up one of the still whole strawberries and bit into it with a happy groan and sat down at the island. "Did you sleep well in our den of inequity?"</p><p>Booker smiled at his friend, finding the expression alarmingly easy to fall into around Nicky. He licked the juice from his fingers before washing his hands. "Very well, thank you. In fact, I overslept. Is Joe coming down soon? Crepes aren't as good when they're cold.”</p><p>“Joe went out earlier, probably snuck out around dawn." Nicky poured himself a coffee, adding sugar and cream before taking a sip. "So I guess we'll just have to eat everything. His loss." Nicky smiled around the edge of his mug at the easy way Booker moved around, like he truly belonged. Joe had made an offhand comment the other night about Booker being a true believer and just needing direction. A cherished concubine. He had even mentioned the fickle word of Fate. Nicky hummed around his mug, tracing his thumbs around the porcelain. "Have you always been a morning person? You're an adorable little house husband."</p><p>His cheeks turned bright red as Booker brought Nicky his plate. "I'm really not. I just slept really well for the first time in years, so I feel energized. I've forced myself to rise early these last few years for morning prayers." He looked back at Nicky as he fetched his own plate. "Did you sleep well, Nico?"</p><p>"I did, thank you." The crepes were perfectly cooked, golden and slightly crispy on the edges while still being soft, rolled with mascarpone and strawberries and dusted with powdered sugar. Nicky's eyes flicked up towards Booker. "If you ever do change career paths, may I suggest cooking? I know you said you enjoyed it, but this looks amazing. And I have a sweet tooth." He cut a small slice and took a bite, eyes falling shut with a deep, pleased sigh.</p><p>Booker was transfixed by the sight of Nicky sighing in such pleasure. The fact that it was caused by <em>him</em> only added to it. "I'll consider it. I think that cooking for money would take the joy out of it, though. It would become a chore, not an act of love." He spoke without thought, a common reaction of his around Nicky, apparently.</p><p>"I understand that." Spearing another piece Nicky took a bite and then a sip of coffee. "I was thinking that the responsible thing would probably be to keep your lease just in case this impulsivity doesn't work out. I want to be optimistic, but I also don't want you to feel trapped."</p><p>"A wise choice. I have the feeling that I won't need it, but at the same time, I have been wrong before." Booker sighed sadly, sipping his coffee. "Please don't take that the wrong way, though. With you, I feel more alive than I ever have, but we've all be burned by hope before, haven't we?"</p><p>"Mmmm." Nicky watched Booker a moment. "You're not going to eat your own breakfast? Please tell me you didn't make all of this for Joe and me. That's very sweet, but you should enjoy yourself too."</p><p>Booker bit his lip. That was <em>exactly</em> what he intended to do. He'd dreamed of them again last night, but it wasn't an intense sex dream like before. Instead, it was the three of them sitting in the living room, Booker kneeling at Nicky's feet as Joe painted them and Nicky read aloud in that beautiful voice of his. Booker hadn't wanted to wake up from it. It was a good dream, but it was sinful, and he didn't deserve it or them. He must punish himself for lust and covetousness. "I'm...not really hungry." He lied.</p><p>Nicky masked his surprise at the sensation of the lie prickling over his skin by wiping his hands on his napkin. There was that self-deprecation again. They were really going to need to work on that. Standing from his seat, Nicky moved to sit next to Booker and pulled over his plate and a clean fork, cutting off a slice and cupping his hand under the fork as he held it up toward Booker. "At least one bite to admire your hard work."</p><p>A small gasp left Booker's lips as Nicky came closer. He stared at the food being offered to him, unsure of what to do. He shouldn't be rude, but he shouldn't eat either. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Booker knew that he would break. His selfish dedication to the path of least resistance is what had killed his soul in the first place, and yet, here he went again. Carefully, he leaned forward and ate the crepe, the food tasting like ash in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, unable to look at Nicky.</p><p>"You really do deprive yourself of the good things, don't you? Punish yourself." Nicky put the fork down and pushed the plate away with his arm before taking Booker's face gently in his hands and turning him so their eyes met. "You deserve all good things in life, Bastien. You're worth being cared for, spoiled, loved... You need to let yourself believe it. It's not a sin to enjoy the pleasures given to you in life. It would be too cruel."</p><p>Tears gathered in Booker's eyes. He leaned into Nicky's touch like a flower swaying into the sunlight. No one had ever talked to him this gently before. No one had ever told him that he was worthy of love and care and pleasure. It was always him taking care of others and hiding his desires because they were wrong or unnecessary. Nicky's eyes seemed so earnest. Could he be lying? Everyone lied. Booker did, all the time. And yet, he wanted so badly to believe him. Booker sobbed, falling into Nicky's arms and clinging to him like Nicky was all that was holding him together. He wanted this so badly, to believe in something, in some<em>one</em>. Could he have this? Did he even deserve it?</p><p>Nicky gathered Booker in his arms, letting him cry and petting into his hair soothingly. He tried to pull at the worst threads of negativity and self-doubt in Booker and untangle them. It was a bit strange, using his powers in such a way, but Booker was so knotted up that Nicky was pretty sure it would be impossible without a bit of coaxing.</p><p>He smoothed circles between Booker's shoulders, taking hold of the metaphysical tension and tossing it away. Rubbed down his spine and worked to infuse a bit of self-worth. Watering and sunning the seeds that Booker already had but had kept choked by weeds of repression and religion. "Let me help you, Bastien. Let us show you how bright the world can be."</p><p>Once, a long time ago, the priest in Booker’s his hometown had spoken of being visited by the Holy Spirit. That in your time of greatest need, He would come to you and offer you strength and comfort. He would soothe your ills and give you the courage to charge forward and seize the day in the name of God. Here, in Nicky's arms, he felt his fears and worries fall apart as if washed away by holy water. He felt strength enter his limbs and his soul, like the sun breaking through the clouds to warm his cold body. Nicky felt like salvation. In truth, Nicky was probably just a mortal man, but God worked in mysterious ways. Even if he <em>was</em> just a man, perhaps the Holy Spirit was working through him, giving Booker the love and bravery he needed to move on. When his tears ran out, he felt uplifted. He felt weightless in the best way. There was still some doubt and some fear, but Rome was not built in a day. Booker knew now that he was safe here, with Nicky and Joe. He was safe and wanted and maybe even loved. He could <em>feel</em> it in his soul, the brilliant truth of it. Here was where he was meant to be. Here, with these men. When he opened his eyes, he looked up at Nicky in adoration.</p><p>"What have you done to me?" He asked in awe and reverence.</p><p>"Soothed some of your worries, I would hope." Nicky replied. He rubbed his thumb along Booker's cheek, wiping away the last of his tears. "I don't like seeing God causing you all this sadness."<br/>
It was exhilarating and terrifying, to have someone so easy to sway. Nicky wanted Booker all for himself (and for Joe). Kept tucked away from God's supposed greatness, from the Divine oppression and rigidity. A perfect, wondrous, worshipful man all for them. A leader to their own damned. He smoothed a hand over the back of Booker's neck and squeezed gently.</p><p>Booker gasped, his eyes fluttering shut at Nicky's touch on his neck. He felt so strange, like he was floating. Like all he had to do was obey and he would be taken care of. It was addicting, like alcohol had once been. He sighed happily, opening his eyes again. "<em>Oui</em>. You have. Is <em>this</em> what you meant, <em>mon ange</em>, when you spoke of worship? This clarity? This freedom?"</p><p>"A start, I would think." Nicky rubbed his thumb at the nape of Booker's neck, enjoying the minute shudders and gasps. "Can you eat some more for me, <em>gattino</em><em>?</em>" He pulled over the plate and readied another bite on the fork before holding it up to Booker.</p><p>"<em>Oui</em>. Anything for you." Booker whispered, his lips already parted by the time Nicky held out the bite for him. He closed his eyes as he let himself savor the flavor. "Mmmm...."</p><p>Nicky closed his eyes and swallowed down the blasphemy on the back of his tongue. He needed to focus and maintain some semblance of control. He'd have to be honest with Booker soon, find a way to break the subject without terrifying him. He kissed Booker's temple. "Once we're finished here, we'll go pick up some necessities from your place and bring them here. Then maybe you can help me decorate a bit."</p><p>For a brief moment, Booker thought he smelled smoke, heady and acrid. He wondered if he left the burner on but remembered that he hadn't and dismissed it. He was floating on such new and hazy sensations that he was bound to be a little disoriented. "As you wish, <em>mon ange</em>. Will Joe be back by then? Will he be hungry?"</p><p>"He probably will be, but I think he'll have gotten his fill of things before coming home." They finished eating and Nicky put the dishes in the dishwasher before moving to sit next to Booker. He knew Booker was drifting but needed to pull him out before he crashed or dropped. He tried to dial some of the charm down a bit. "I think I'm going to get changed then, since I don't want to go romping around in pajamas. Why don't you make a list of things you need so we don't forget anything?”</p><p>Slowly, Booker felt himself come back down to earth. It was a pleasant sensation, like waking up to a warm day after a lovely dream. He smiled at Nicky and leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his brow like a benediction before sitting back up again. "All right. That sounds reasonable. Dress warmly. I hear a strong wind outside." He pulled out his phone and began typing out a list.</p><p>Nicky headed upstairs and pulled out some clothing to change into. He heard the door open and close, then muffled conversation and greetings, which meant Joe was back. Undressing and walking into the en suite, Nicky turned on the tap, letting the water run and warm. He brushed his teeth and was rinsing his face when he spotted Joe in the mirror and offered him a warm smile. "Feel better after your debauched romp?"</p><p>"Mmmm, much. You seem to have put in work this morning, he's almost glowing." Joe said, making his way over from the doorway.</p><p>Nicky rose a shoulder in a shrug, leaning back against Joe when Joe stepped behind him. Joe's hand dragged down the line of his side before closing over the Diabolic Mark on his hip, which flared with heat at the touch.</p><p>Nicky tipped his head back and smiled at Joe wider. "We're going to have to tell him soon."</p><p>"That, my dear, is your job. He can actually hurt me if he tried." Joe dragged his fingers away from the mark, coal red on Nicky's skin a moment before it faded to black and then faded entirely. "You know that nickname he calls you is angel in French, right?"</p><p>Nicky stepped into his clothes and pursed his lips. "I thought it may have been. He's not <em>technically</em> wrong, he's just in the wrong direction." He shrugged on the soft looking sweater and turned around to wrap his arms around Joe. "We're going to pick up a few things. Stay here, eat some of the food he made, maybe shower. You smell like sex."</p><p>Joe heaved out a sigh and kissed Nicky, tasting him thoroughly before drawing away. "Alright. Go play house."</p><p>Nicky bit Joe's lower lip hard enough to draw blood and licked it up, shivering at the taste and small spike of lust that ran through him. "Find a sexy painting and hang it in the living room to scandalize him when we get back."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When they returned, it took Booker a whole two hours to notice the painting above the fireplace. When he did, he dropped the bed sheets he was carrying. It was a finished version of the sketch he'd been admiring the night before of a man tied in ropes. (The watercolor of Nicky's eyes now rested across from his bed, and he would never say it out loud, but the righteous fury in their gaze comforted him greatly.) He stared at the beautiful black rope harness, licking his lips as his eyes traced the patterns and curves. His fingers ached to touch the man in question, whoever he was, and feel by proxy the pleasure consuming him.</p><p>"You like it?" Joe asked as he finished stacking a few books and knick-knacks on the floating shelves surrounding the fireplace. "I told you it was a bit risqué. If it's too much I'm sure I have some geometric designs…"</p><p>"I don't even know if our dear Sébastien even knows what it is, aside from a beautiful painting." Nicky threw a small blanket over the back of the couch.</p><p>"Shibari, isn't it?" Booker looked at Joe with a teasingly admonishing glare. "College was an interesting time for me. I was on too tight a leash to be allowed to try things for myself, but I have ears, and I listen. My roommate in my second year got kicked out for just such a...proclivity. His girlfriend took vows to avoid the scandal."</p><p>Joe clasped both of his hands over his heart at the glare but smiled at Booker. "It is. And some people enjoy tight leashes, sadly not in the manner you're talking about." He slid the last book in place. "You and Nicky really are two sides of the same coin."</p><p>Nicky picked up the empty box to break it down. "Well, if you ever want to try, even innocent stuff, or ask questions, we're happy to listen and answer, and if we don't know, then we can find out together." He smiled. "That's part of the reason the basement is being redone."</p><p>"I'm flattered." Booker grinned at the compliment, picking up the bed sheets. When Nicky spoke, Booker's eyes went wide. "Really? So <em>that's</em> what you meant by studio, then?" He leaned against the fireplace, cheeks a bit flushed. "Is it just for you, or are you sex workers? Believe me, I'm not judging. I'm just curious. And...try? What do you mean, try? You two are together." He might know what shibari was, and a few other sexual things, but he was still hampered by a forced devout life.</p><p>"If you were to find a partner, or sometimes it can just be something chaste. People do arms or feet, nothing involving nudity. And we’re not sex workers exactly, but we've had a fairly open relationship." Joe answered, he watched Booker before picking up one of the books and flipping through before finding a picture of a woman with her arms bound from hand to just above elbow with bright yellow rope in an intricate lattice pattern.</p><p>Booker leaned over and studied the picture. It looked beautiful and just the right side of painful. "So what exactly are you offering, then? Are you just being nice?" He needed to know. He wanted them so badly, but he refused to be a plaything. His newfound self-esteem wouldn't allow it.</p><p>"We are being nice, and I wasn't really offering much of anything, but if <em>you</em> want something, I think we'd be honored." Nicky said.</p><p>That seed of strength Booker had found this morning was still a small thing, but the seedling was beginning to bloom into a flower. Even just yesterday, he would have begged for any scrap of affection they would deign to give him. Now, though...now, he wanted <em>more</em>. Time to make some demands, it seemed. Time to test his limits. He tossed the sheets down again and stalked over to Nicky. On his way, he grabbed Joe by the shirt without even looking. He dragged the other man with him as Booker pinned Nicky to the wall. When Booker felt Joe settle against his back, chin hooked over his shoulder, Booker finally spoke.</p><p>"I want you to seduce me. I want you to court me. Fulfill your promise and show me the brightness of the world. Prove to me that this isn't a game for you. Earn me, and when you have, take me apart and remake me in your image." His left hand reached up and tangled in Joe's hair while the right remained against the wall near Nicky's head. "And in return, I will be faithful only to you. You and Joe. Here, in this home, and beyond it. What say you?"</p><p>Nicky stared at Booker, pride and heat and pure <em>want</em> like a fire inside of him at the pure, unfettered emotion in Booker's eyes. Throwing things into the wind and casting off the ages of dimness. The things Booker was saying without realizing made Nicky feel hungry. Greedy. Insane. He wanted to <em>devour</em> Booker. Their sweet little Saint Sébastien. Joe was molten under Booker's fingers. He had wanted him from the moment he scented him on the street and was only holding back his urges at Nicky's behest.</p><p>Nicky smiled, sharper, realer than the sweet or simple half-smiles. "I think we have a deal."</p><p>"Good." Booker purred, leaning in. His lips hovered over Nicky's, their breaths mingling. He savored the heat, the desire, the need. Booker licked his lips, the tip of his tongue barely touching Nicky's full pout. Then, he pulled back suddenly, gently moving Joe out of the way. He grabbed Joe's chin and kissed his Adam's apple before marching away, bending down to pick up the sheets before heading to his room. "Surprise me, <em>mes amis</em>."</p><p>Nicky blinked a few times as the door to Booker's room clicked shut and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. "What just happened?"</p><p>He let out a slightly hysterical laugh before pressing the heels of his palms under his eyes. He felt the wall shudder when his head banged against it, and he pressed <em>out</em> with his essence, feeling overwhelmed. He studied Joe for a long while before letting his tongue slip around Latin. "Fuck, I want him so bad. I thought I wanted him just as a plaything but no. No, he's more."</p><p>Joe moved to sit next to Nicky, taking his hand. "Your first disciple, it seems." He kissed Nicky's shoulder and then his throat. "Enjoy the offering."</p><p>"You just want me to hurry it up so you can ride his cock, don't try to act coy. But I do appreciate the words. Now I just need to figure out how to tell him the whole story. Maybe not tonight. Give it a bit. We've only known him a few weeks."</p><p>"Feels like forever. He's enthralling in the best way. He’s ours, Nico, I can feel it. I can sense it. He’s our mate." Joe kissed Nicky's throat again. "We'll have him."</p><p>Nicky eyed Joe and then pulled himself up off the floor. "Take me to bed, Yusuf."</p><p>In the guest bedroom, Booker leaned against the door, looking at the painting of Nicky's eyes as he calmed himself down. That whole thing had been a level of bold and daring that he had never accomplished before. He was proud of himself. As the adrenaline wore off, he heard a deep, masculine moan. “<em>Nicky.”</em> He grinned viciously. He'd gotten to them. Excellent. With a spring in his step, he began changing the sheets on his bed.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Over the next two weeks the three of them settled into an oddly comfortable routine. Nicky and Booker usually shared breakfast before Booker went off alone for a while, usually out in the city. Nicky worked from home, and Joe painted. At night, the three of them would work together on dinner and sit down and eat while watching something.</p><p>The three of them had set up boundaries. For the moment, there would be no talk about religion or Booker's vocation (or lack thereof) unless Booker brought it up first, and both Nicky and Joe had agreed to dial their infernal influence to the base passivity to keep Booker's free will from being infringed upon—that was the point, after all.</p><p>Currently, Nicky was eyeing a stack of contracts on the coffee table sitting next to his laptop with disdain. He had to do inventory. He <em>hated</em> doing inventory. Groaning, he pulled over the first file and flipped it open. Hell really was the worst corpocratic entity in existence. Oddly enough, Booker had never thought to ask what Nicky did for a living. Perpetual student-hood wasn't very lucrative, and even though Joe was independently wealthy, Nicky still talked about working.</p><p>Booker came in from the cold and shucked off his jacket and boots, brushing the snow from his hair. He slipped into living room quietly, intending to sneak up on Nicky and surprise him with the pastries in his hand. He eyed the paperwork on the table. Contracts? But for what? He tried to read them, but ended up bumping against the back of the sofa, startling Nicky. "Ah! <em>Bonjour, mon ange</em>. I brought you a snack."</p><p>Jumping a bit at the bump, Nicky turned, lowering his reading and then closed the folder, dropping onto the stack. "Hello, Bastien. You didn't need to bring me anything. I'm the one meant to be doing the seduction if I recall correctly." He teased. Closing out of the spread sheet he organized the file folders before dropping them into a banker's box. Nicky patted the spot on the cushions laid on the carpet next to him. "Come and warm up."</p><p>“This isn't a seduction, <em>mon ange</em>. It's keeping you and Monsieur Poodle alive. You both always forget to eat around midday. How can you seduce me if you are dead, hm?" Booker laughed, pressing a kiss to Nicky's cheek. He sat down easily, curling into Nicky's warmth. This had become home and safety to him, being held by or sitting next to Nicky and Joe. He sighed happily, finally relaxing.</p><p>Nicky rolled his eyes but took the offered pastry, wrapping his arm around Booker and kissing the cap of his shoulder. "Thank you, <em>gattino</em>." He fluffed up Booker's hair and took a bite of the savory pastry.</p><p>"Mm." Turning the bag so he could see the name of the shop, Nicky licked crumbs from his lips. "Did you have a nice walk?"</p><p>The door to the basement swung open, a ball of wadded up material shot out, and Joe braced himself on the door frame as he pulled himself off the ladder. "Getting rid of the staircase this early was a stupid decision." He announced, kicking the door shut behind himself. He stooped down to pick up the cloth, clearly his shirt, and began wiping the dust and paint splatter from his arms with his balled-up shirt. He paused in his clean up before slowly un-bunching his shirt and sliding it back on. "And Sébastien's back. Where'd you go?"</p><p>"I've seen you butt naked seven times since I moved in, <em>mon cher</em>. You can keep the shirt off. I won't combust." Booker laughed, winking cheekily at Joe. "I...well, I tried to….I walked past the church." The mood dimmed a little. "The priest saw me and wondered why I've been missing services. He asked if I was sick. I said no, just that I had been busy. He...He reminded me that in order to repent, I must attend regularly and pay my tithes. He made me promise to come tomorrow, but...I don't know. I stopped by the bakery to get myself some coffee and think. I'm still unsure."</p><p>"When did you see me <em>naked</em>?" Joe asked, brows lifting as he adjusted his shirt.</p><p>Nicky rolled his eyes. “Joe, we all share a bathroom and you notoriously don't believe in pajamas."</p><p>Joe still adjusted the shirt as he moved to sit on Booker's other side and gave him a small hug. "Do you want us to go with you if you go? Or do you not want to think about it? I know we haven't talked about it much. It's your choice. We're not going anywhere unless you want us to."</p><p>"And if you want, we can have an abstinent relationship with you. It would be tough, but I understand how difficult a crisis of faith can be." Nicky said, moving to squeeze Booker's hand. "Or if you want, we can be unrepentant heathens."</p><p>Booker gave Joe a grateful kiss on the cheek before doing the same for Nicky. "You have both been nothing but true gentlemen. I feel respected and seen and cared for. To be honest, I expected more actual seducing from you by now." He laughed. "I was looking forward to it, actually."</p><p>Booker took a moment to pause and gather his thoughts.  "But...I think I've known what I wanted to do since I met you. I just needed the freedom to choose and the support of people who actually cared about <em>me</em>, and not the fact that I'm another soul to add to their tally and some guaranteed money for the offering box." Booker looked down at his hand linked with Nicky's. "I won't go back. I don't want to. I'm still unsure of my relationship with God, but I know that I'm disillusioned with St. Cecilia’s, at least. I can't go back there and give to a place that cares nothing for its people."</p><p>Joe pulled Booker into a tight hug and kissed his cheek, then his temple. "You don't need all the answers right now. You'd have nothing left to learn."</p><p>Nicky rubbed his thumb along the inside of Booker's wrist. Something inside of him twisted at Booker's mention of just another soul to the tally. Something vicious and almost painful, a concern of doubt that he was doing the same thing. He was <em>better</em> than that. Booker's soul was worth more.</p><p>Joe was quiet for a moment, sensing Nicky’s thoughts.  "You didn't answer Nico's other question…"</p><p>"Oh, um..." Booker blushed. He had discovered early on in their acquaintance that it wasn't Joe and Nicky's talks about sex that made Booker blush, but the fact that it was the men who were talking that made him flush. He was so fucking gone that it hurt.</p><p>"I want sex. With you, the both of you, and <em>only</em> you. Who knows, maybe someday I'll be open to an open relationship, but for now, at least, I only want you. I won't dictate what you do, because I know what it's like to be controlled, but if you bring someone home, I want to talk about it first. We'd take it case by case. If, uh...if you're okay with this." He made himself look at both men, so they'd understand him clearly. "I want you. I really do. I want to be with you in every way. I have no idea what I'm doing, but don't ever think that I don't want to be with you. Body, heart, and soul. Seduce me, court me, all of it. Don't hold back. I'll tell you if it's too much. I promise. Kiss me. Touch me. Please."</p><p>Nicky inhaled sharply at Booker's words and nodded a bit. "That seems like a reasonable number of requests." Once again with the mention of his soul. Nicky wanted to whimper. "You're putting a lot of trust out there. It's a bit overwhelming, in a good way."</p><p>Joe nuzzled into Booker's hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Well, I think we have some pretty good plans." He slowly pulled back and stood. "I'm going to make something to eat." Nicky eyed the box tucked against his side and then his hand threaded with Booker's. "I need to make some calls to clients, join you later for some Netflix?"</p><p>"So far, you've been worthy of my trust, and I want you to trust me as I trust you. Like I said, I feel safe with you." Booker shrugged, smiling again as Joe kissed him. He smiled so easily these days. "Thank you, <em>mon cher</em>." He watched Joe go, leaning on Nicky. "Sure. I'll find something for us to watch. Another 50's horror movie, or one of those art documentaries Joe likes yelling at?"</p><p>"Or one of those competition shows, I like the fashion ones." Nicky closed his laptop and added it to his pile before standing up and stretching as his joints popped.</p><p>"Mm, since we're broaching intimacy again, you should know," he bent down to pick up the box and tipped his head toward the painting centerpiece. The long expanse of back and shoulders, arms bound in reverse prayer pose, the faintest hint of buttocks. "That one's me." He grinned at Booker and then headed toward the small room he'd claimed as an office.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Booker was bright red the entire time Joe and Nicky were gone. He just stared at the painting, Netflix forgotten, idly tracing the shape of his cock through his pants. He didn't even know that he was doing it.</p><p>Joe let Booker quietly simmer for about twenty minutes, mostly focused on the food he was making but his mind was definitely drifting back to Booker. Enjoying the lazy thrum of his arousal he could sense and almost taste, like warm honey, and the way he wasn't quite doing anything with it. He felt himself clench in want and in hunger and his mouth was watering. Unable to help it he pressed ever so slightly into the shuffle of desires and put in an image of Booker himself bound and posed, trussed with silver silks.</p><p>A loud gasp and a quiet moan rang out from the living room. Booker's head fell back against the couch as his hips jerked up. The thought of himself tied up like Nicky had been lit his body on fire. He pressed the heel of his hand against his clothed need, groaning as he tried to keep himself under control.</p><p>Joe licked his lips at the soft sound and grinned. He sucked in a few slow, deep breaths through his mouth and fastened his control on is human facade. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans and made his way into the living room, making a point of stepping on the floorboard that popped so Booker would hear the approach.</p><p>Booker's eyes flew open (when had he closed them?) when he heard Joe come in. He panted as he watched him come closer, still grinding against his palm. Booker tried to speak, to explain himself, but all that came out was a plaintive mewl.</p><p>"<em>Joe</em>..."</p><p>What a sight Booker made, still sprawled on the floor, legs spread, head resting back on the seat of the couch. His mouth was bitten red and his hands, one on his thigh and the other lazily rubbing himself, were restless. His eyes were dark with lust and when he said his <em>name</em> Joe barely managed to keep from moaning and baring his teeth.</p><p>"Oh, <em>kibdii</em>, you've worked yourself into such a state, haven't you?"</p><p>"...<em>Yes</em>..." Booker moaned, his eyes begging Joe to do something. Anything. Booker needed to be touched or commanded to touch himself. He needed permission. He <em>needed</em>. "Please..."</p><p>Joe stopped at the edge of the couch, resting his hip against it, watching Booker with undisguised interest and hunger. "I want to see how you take care of yourself. Show me what you like so I can do it later."</p><p>Booker's cheeks flushed even more, and he looked down in shame. The command helped him pull back enough from his lust to speak. "I don't know what I like. The few times I ever did this, I just...it only took a few minutes. I don't know."</p><p>Joe hummed, grabbing the feeling of shame with metaphorical teeth and flinging it away. "Close your eyes for me, then, <em>kibdii</em>." He waited until Booker complied. "Now focus on my voice, focus on the warmth inside of you, that strange, wonderful, restless feeling..." He lowered his voice to a whisper, eyes transfixed on Booker's face. "Press your hand back down again. Keep petting yourself, you look beautiful."</p><p>"Yessss...." Booker hissed, moaning quietly as he obeyed. It felt so good, so easy, to simply follow Joe's orders. He touched himself gently, softly, teasing himself into full hardness. "Feels so good…"</p><p>"Good, you should bask in it. Feel good and warm, like you're floating. Like everything is too much and not enough." Joe's fingers dug into the material of the sofa, matching his breathing to Booker's, letting the cluttered, complex feelings wash over him. "I'm right here with you, sweetheart. You're doing so well." He let his eyes roam Booker's body, biting his lower lip. "Do you want to come?"</p><p>"Yes...please...wanna come..." Booker mewled as he writhed against his hand. It was all too much. Heat and pleasure radiated out from his groin and into his chest and limbs. He felt so heavy and so light all at once. His breathing was getting erratic as the feeling of delicious tension twisted into his stomach. "I need to come...please let me come!"</p><p>Joe moved, slow but silent as Booker worked himself up to the precipice, his breathing so shallow and quick that Joe almost worried he'd hyperventilate. He knelt next to Booker, fingers itching desperately to touch. He shuddered and swallowed thickly at the soft huffs of air Booker was gasping out. "I've got you, Sébastien. I want you to come for me."</p><p>Booker's eyes flew open as he was <em>finally</em> given permission to come. His hips stuttered as he cried out in needy abandon. Booker's gaze never left Joe's as he felt his cock twitch and leak come into his pants. It felt like dying. It felt like pure ecstasy. It felt like joy and freedom. Orgasm had never felt like this before, and Joe wasn't even touching him. He whimpered as he came down, leaning towards Joe. "Feels so good..."</p><p>Joe's composure broke a little when Booker sagged against him and he took him in his arms, one hand almost instantly finding its place in Booker's hair to pet. He let the bone deep satisfaction from Booker leech into him and warm him from the inside, taking with it some of the gnawing hunger. He kissed Booker's neck, breathing along the skin and sucked gently, but firmly, wanting to leave a small mark.</p><p>"Joe...felt so good..." Booker sighed, sleepy and content despite the cooling mess in his jeans. He purred under Joe's attention, baring his neck to him. "What about you, <em>mon cher</em>? Do you want to come too?" His hand slid up Joe's thigh, suggesting and offering, but not demanding.</p><p>"Mm-mm, not right now. Thank you for letting me be here." He rubbed at the nape of Booker's neck and kissed his throat again. "I'm glad I could help you feel good. You were...ethereal." He wanted to bundle Booker up into his lap now and take care of him on his comedown. Love and affection and lust were all tied up with him. It was the brand he'd learned to feed from centuries ago.</p><p>"Do you want to go change and come back or do you want to stay here and snuggle?" He traced a line down Booker's cheek. Booker was fated to be with them, just as he and Nicky were bound together. Joe just <em>knew</em>.</p><p>"Mmmm...come with me? Help me change? It's starting to cool, and I'm not a fan of feeling sticky. Uh, only if you want to. I just feel clumsy, is all." Booker rambled. He wanted to change into pajamas and spend the next few hours being held. He could have that now, he realized.</p><p>This, and slowly draining the energy from victims through mind-bending sex, and also Nicky, was the stuff in life that Joe loved. Taking care of someone like this catered to his possessive needs in a way that was purely enjoyable. Plus, a pliant, sated Booker was definitely not anything he was sure he could say no to, even if this was the first time.</p><p>Standing up, Joe easily hefted Booker into his arms and carried him to the bedroom and carefully set him down on the bedspread before looking through his clothing and selecting a pair of soft fleece pants and a shirt. He half guided, half helped Booker into changing his clothes. Once all that was done, he returned Booker to the couch and got him a glass of water before encouraging Booker to lay his head on his chest while he browsed Netflix.</p><p>It was like floating on a cloud, and several other whimsical and very sappy analogies. Joe was warm and solid and strong. Booker was taller and broader than both men. He was used to being the strong one, so it was pleasantly strange to be the one being taken care of and carried everywhere. Booker didn’t question Joe’s unusual strength, too tired to think straight. Instead, he settled into it, basking in warm feeling of it. Booker dutifully drank his water before cuddling into Joe, smiling peacefully. He was dozing by the time Joe had picked something. His aura was calm and contented.</p><p>Joe lazily pet through Booker's hair and neck, content to let Booker doze. He made a mental note to talk with him frankly about the concept of submission. He and Nicky weren't overt or constantly living the lifestyle, but they did enjoy play, and Joe had a feeling it might be something Booker might gravitate toward or would enjoy.</p><p>Joe smiled when he felt fingers press into his hair and scratch along his scalp, right between where his horns manifested. He opened his thoughts towards Nicky rather than bothering to try and whisper. <em>'How was work?'</em></p><p>
  <em>Nicky shrugged. </em>
  <em>'Boring, a few interesting prospects but nothing worth devoting a lot of energy to. Quynh and Andy slaughtered a pedophile ring with 35 casualties yesterday.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Joe pouted and sighed. ‘</em>
  <em>Man, as soon as we leave, they get the fun murder.'</em>
</p><p>Nicky's eyes flicked to Booker, his expression softening a bit. <em>'I think you were right about that whole Fate</em><em> thing, and I hate when you're right.'</em></p><p>Joe gave a wide grin at that and followed Nicky's gaze toward Booker. <em>'Next is the hard part.'</em></p><p>
  <em>'Yeah, by the way God exists and I'm trying to kick his ass behind a Denny's, as the meme so aptly says. Please don't freak out.'</em>
</p><p>Joe snorted a laugh before trying to muffle himself and swatted at Nicky before nodding to the open spot-on Booker's other side.</p><p>Booker frowned, pulled out of his doze by Joe's jostling. His confused glare turned into a soft, adoring grin when he finally saw that Nicky was there. He reached up with one hand and beckoned Nicky over. "Come sit with us, <em>mon ange</em>. We'll eat dinner and watch crap TV." His voice was rough with sleep and overuse.</p><p>"I'm just going to get a drink," Nicky assured, squeezing Booker's fingers, "Do you want anything from the kitchen?"</p><p>"Some wine, maybe?" Since Booker no longer needed alcohol to be happy, he felt safer drinking a little bit at a time, and he figured that Nicky and Joe were wine people. "Joe, what did you make for dinner?"</p><p>"I was a bit distracted," Joe teased, kissing Booker's forehead. "We can get something ordered in if you'd like. Indian food? Pizza?"</p><p>Nicky returned with a bottle of white wine and some glasses, sitting down and starting to pour. "Indian food sounds good."</p><p>"That sounds good." Booker groaned as he stretched out his tired limbs, sitting up just enough so he could turn towards Nicky. He cupped Nicky's cheek and kissed his brow. "Thank you, <em>mon ange</em>."</p><p>Nicky smiled, returning the kiss to one of Booker's cheeks as Joe stood up and stretched, moving to get his phone. Nicky listened to him move around before focusing back in on Booker. "We're organizing our next delivery of things from our old apartment. We have a bunch of books on a bunch of things. Want me to get them to grab a selection and let you see if there's anything that catches your eye? I have a few remade faux manuscripts from the fourteen and fifteen hundreds."</p><p>Booker's eyes went wide with delight. "Yes! Of course! And please!" He laughed, giddy with excitement. "Fair warning: you'll have to pry me away with a crowbar if they're good." He giggled. "This feels like a dream, like I'll wake up and I'll still be alone, but then I see your face and I know I could never dream up someone so ethereal, so angelic."</p><p>“I'm not quite the wonderous, untouchable man you make me out to be, Bastien, I've got depth to me. If I'm any kind of angelic creature, it's not one in the Kingdom anymore." Nicky said softly, not quite meeting Booker's eyes. "Still, it makes me happy that you feel at home with us."</p><p>"...No, you are not perfect. You forget to eat constantly because you get too caught up in work. Sometimes you snore. I <em>see</em> you, Nico. Your anger. Your selfishness. Your vindictiveness. It's never aimed at me, but I've still seen it in your eyes when you work or when you interact with others. I see it when you steal Joe's last orange despite him asking you not to. Do you think I'm naive, Nico?" Booker stroked Nicky's cheek with his thumb. "Maybe I am, in many ways, but not in this. You are an angel to me, yes, but I know you are a man. Weren't you the one to say that worship is devotion? Then why can't devotion be worship?"</p><p>Nicky blinked a few times to push back tears. It had been so long since someone saw him as something other than his mantle. As someone who was still human. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed his face to Booker's shoulder. "Thank you," he murmured, one hand fisted in Booker's shirt. "Thank you."</p><p>Booker was confused by Nicky's seemingly sudden sadness, but he gathered up his angel in his arms anyway. He kissed the crown of Nicky's head, rubbing circles down his back as he murmured softly into his hair. "Always, <em>mon ange</em>. Always. I am yours, and you are mine. And we are Joe's." He laughed quietly, hoping to lighten the mood.</p><p>Nicky shivered bit at the kiss to the top of his head but nuzzled into Booker's shoulder. "Yes, we're each other's." He patted Booker's side and lifted his face up, readjusting his glasses as he did so. "I just feel very lucky."</p><p>"We all are, I think. To be together like this. Safe and happy. Forever, if we want to be." Booker caressed Nicky's cheek.</p><p>Nicky turned and pressed a kiss to the middle of Booker's palm, smiling against the skin before shifting back so he and Booker could curl up together. "Do you want to watch a body painting competition or one of those weird mini-house makeovers."</p><p>"Body paint," Joe voted, setting the food down on the table. "I got a few different curries and some biriyani and lots of naan. I didn't know if you liked spice, Booker so if you don't, the one with the red lid? Don't touch."</p><p>"Of course Joe wants to watch body painting." Booker snickered, running his hand idly up and down Nicky's side. "Spice and I have a strange relationship. Off and on but mostly off, so I'll refrain tonight. Thank you, though." He helped Joe plate things up and turned on the competition. Every now and then, he'd feed Nicky or Joe by hand, content to take care of them for now.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Three days later had Joe and Nicky getting ready for a meeting. "We shouldn't be more than four hours, but investment meetings take forever," Joe explained. "The boxes of books arrived this morning if you want to take a look, or shelve them, whatever you feel like. Groceries arrive in an hour, but you know where everything goes. You have our number if the house blows up."</p><p>"Joe, Sébastien is a grown man. He can last four hours without us." Nicky teased, wrapping himself in his scarf. "Do you want us to pick anything up while we're out?"</p><p>"If you could get some cooking wine, that would be lovely. I forgot to add it to the list. I'm making coq au vin for you." It was a big step for Booker, sharing what was once his son's favorite food with his boyfriends. He shivered at the thought, the knowledge that they were his. "Be safe, <em>mes amis</em>. Come home to me soon." He kissed each of their cheeks, gifting them with a warm smile and a lingering touch.</p><p>"We will. I'm excited to try it, and you remembered to use no actual bacon, right?" Joe said. It was one of the few personal rules about the body he inhabited. He tried to keep as halal as he could to honor his vessel. Call it the angelic part of him. "I'm sorry." He pulled on his earmuffs and gloves.</p><p>"Of course! There are other things I can use to enhance the flavor. Don't worry." Booker kissed his cheek again. "No apologies for being who you are, <em>mon cher</em>. Now get going. You'll be late!"</p><p>"We're going! If you run out of room for the books, there's some room in the basement!" Nicky called over his shoulder before unlocking the car and climbing in.</p><p>"That death trap? We'll see!" Booker laughed, waving as they left. (The staircase still hadn't been built yet.)</p><p>He watched them leave before going about his day. Booker was still trying to figure out what he wanted to do with himself financially. Should he go back to school? Work at a library again? Restore books? He wasn't sure. Since he was waiting for more boxes today, he had decided to save his job search for another day. An hour later, the groceries arrived, and Booker put them away before deciding to finally look at the books. They covered nearly every genre, but there was a distinct focus on religion. One blood red book caught his eye immediately, but the title gave him pause: <em>Demonology</em>. With a shrug, Booker picked it up anyway.</p><p>He read through the entire book in an hour. It was a slim tome, built to give the reader the necessities and nothing more. Rules and symbols burned into his eyes. True names and summoning rituals and lists of high-ranking demon princes imprinted themselves on his mind. One rule stuck out in particular: demons cannot lie. Instead, they were adept at bending the truth to suit their needs. Eventually, he set the book aside and finished looking through the boxes. He selected a handful of books and took them to his room, putting them on the small shelf he kept there. <em>Demonology</em> was among them. Then, without sparing any extra thought to demons or their laws, Booker began making dinner.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"We're back! It's sleeting like crazy, ugh." Joe shook out the pellets of ice and reached for a small stack of towels they kept in the front closet. "Booker! Can you turn the fireplace on?"</p><p>Nicky grimaced as he peeled the wet, cold socks from his feet and then stepped into a pair of slippers. "Oh, that's better. Bastien, your wine is here!"</p><p>"It's already on, <em>mon cher</em>!" Booker called from the kitchen. "Please bring the wine in here, Nico! You have impeccable timing! How was your meeting?"</p><p>"Boring. I did get to meet some new people though, so that was nice. I know who’s going to be taking care of our affairs in the city." Draping his towel around his neck, Joe picked up the bag and headed into the kitchen. "So far everything smells delicious. Can we help?"</p><p>"That's good, at least. I'm glad you're home, though." Booker kissed Joe's cheek in thanks. "I substituted in mushrooms for the bacon. It should work, I think. And after you've changed, you can make the salad, please. Nicky, can you open the wine for me, please?"</p><p>After ensuring Booker wouldn't drop anything, Joe shoved his cold hands down the back of Booker's shirt before darting away before he could be reprimanded.</p><p>"Aaaaah! You vicious little thief! Monster! Demon!" Booker roared after Joe, his angry demeanor ruined by his laughter.</p><p>Nicky watched him flee. "Coward!" Turning back to Booker, he smiled and opened the wine. "Here you go. I'm going to change too, be right back.” Nicky moved to the stairs, pulling his damp sweater off as he disappeared up the steps.</p><p>"Yes! Coward! You will know my wrath when you return!" Booker huffed. "Thank you, Nico, <em>mon ange</em>. You get extra helpings." Booker sniffed, winking at Nicky as he left.</p><p>Joe returned a few minutes later dressed in a set of cozy lounge wear and padded over to Booker, hugging him around the middle and kissing him on the cheek in apology. "I'm sorry, sometimes I can't help it." He smiled against Booker's cheek before sliding away to wash the vegetables.</p><p>"Don't fall for his tricks," Nicky warned with a playful smile, sliding into a chair to watch Booker work. "I saw you unpacked the boxes. I hope you found some interesting things."</p><p>"Joe, <em>mon cher</em>, you are very dear to me. Now, go and be dear to me over there." Booker chided him, swatting at Joe's ass with a towel, a trick he'd learned from Nicky. "I <em>did</em> find some things, yes. A science fiction novel that looks good. <em>The Martian</em>, I think? A few travel books. <em>Demonology</em>. A first edition Julia Child cookbook! One of the few Americans I truly respect!" He laughed.</p><p>Jolting a bit at the swat on the ass, Joe let out an easy laugh, starting to slice some of the additions to the salad. "Do you want walnuts in this or would that ruin things?" He paused in lightly mixing things at the list Booker rattled off, then resumed again. "She was practically French. It's autographed too, you know."</p><p>"I know. No nuts. Let's keep the textures smooth today." Booker didn't notice Joe's pause. "I would've liked to have met her. She sounded fun." He grabbed plates and set them down on the counter, ready to be filled. "That demon book, where did you get it? Seems an odd thing for an ex-seminary student and an artist to have. It had such strange ideas!"</p><p>"We have a lot of books on everything. I went through an occult phase after seminary. Like I said, off the rails." Nicky spun in his seat to move and grab a drink from the fridge, opening the fizzy water. "A lot of those books are people talking out of their asses, though."</p><p>"So I should disregard what <em>Demonology</em> says then, eh?" Booker began serving the chicken, giving Nicky an extra helping as promised.</p><p>"Hey, how come he gets extra?" Joe said with a pout. "And I don't know, that book is a pretty good primer. It took most of its stuff from the <em>Lesser Key of Solomon</em> and condensed it. That's pretty much the guidebook on demons." Pouring the dressing over his portion of salad, Joe looked down at the plate as he was handed his.</p><p>"Because I didn't shove icy hands down his shirt like a <em>demon</em>," Nicky teased with a grin.</p><p>"Then I'll be sure to study it. You know, in case there's a monster in the closet." Booker giggled as he served himself. He set his plate down and grabbed a handful of Joe's hair, yanking his head back just enough to expose his neck. Booker leaned in and sucked a biting bruise into his neck, leaving a small mark behind. "Naughty boys who disturb a master at work don't get extras, <em>mon cher</em>. Now, be a good boy and take my plate to the table, <em>oui</em><em>?</em>" Booker threw Nicky a wink.</p><p>Joe stared after Booker for a long moment, glad for the fact his back was turned as Joe wrangled with his control as his eyes flickered. He closed them and steadied himself. "You can't just <em>say</em> that!" It wasn't a whine. Not really.</p><p>"Joe, I'm afraid you're well and truly fucked, <em>caro</em>." He grinned at Booker. "He's all big and tough, and then you play with his scalp and he's butter."</p><p>"He's like a puppy, so sweet and eager to please." Booker purred, moving over to Nicky. He cupped Nicky's cheek, carefully angling his head so he could softly mark Nicky's neck with another bruise. "And you, Nico, are like a cat. Independent and regal...and ready to be spoiled." He took his wine glass and salad and sat in his usual place at the dining table.</p><p>"What does that make you?" Nicky asked, sliding his eyes towards Booker. He darted his eyes down to Booker's neck and traced the line of his clavicle in his mind. After dinner he was going to suck a collar of bruises onto Booker's neck.</p><p>"<em>Yours</em>." Booker's gaze bore into Nicky's. He then looked at Joe, forcing him to see his sincerity. "I am yours."</p><p>Nicky partly inhaled his bite of food in shock but managed to recover quickly. "Joe's right, you can't just <em>say</em> those things." He patted his chest a moment. "You really just go for the kidneys."</p><p>Joe gave Booker a fond, besotted look, he took Booker's hand and squeezed it. "I'd follow it up with something equally profound, but Nicky can only take so much wisdom in a short span." He patted Booker's hand and then moved to take another bite of his food. "By the way, this is amazing."</p><p>"I only speak the truth, <em>mon ange</em>." Booker smiled softly. "Take a drink and try not to choke to death." He turned towards Joe and blew him a kiss. "I'm glad you like it. It was my mother's recipe. It took me a while to figure out how to make it more suitable for your restrictions, <em>mon cher</em>, but the internet is a wonderful thing!"</p><p>"All praise the internet." Joe droned monotonously.</p><p>The rest of the meal passed in relative silence as they really tucked into their food. Once they were done, Joe made amends for earlier by offering to do the dishes. Nicky stood up and moved toward Booker with a purpose, twisting a hand into his shirt. "You, <em>gattino</em>, are coming with me." His eyes were intent, but not strict as he tugged on Booker's shirt.</p><p>"Thank you, Joe." Booker kissed Joe's cheek. He had barely settled back into place when Nicky grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. "<em>Oui, monsieur!</em>" Booker gasped, helpless to obey.</p><p>For a moment Nicky debated where to go before ushering Booker onto the couch and pushing him onto it. He straddled his lap deliberately and braced his hands on the couch on either side of Booker's face and caught his eye. "I'm going to spend the next however long I feel like marking up your neck. Is that alright with you?"</p><p>"<em>Yes</em><em>!</em>" Booker licked his lips, bracing his hands on Nicky's hips. "I'm yours, Nicky. I'm <em>yours</em>." He both reaffirmed his stance and egged his boyfriend on. Booker was unsure if this was a seduction or just a moment of passion, but he wanted it nonetheless.</p><p>Nicky smiled with all of his teeth and nudged Booker's chin up gently, scraping his teeth over the tendon and then licking a line down toward his shoulder. He kissed the skin, yanking Booker's shirt to the side to expose more of it. Shuffling forward, Nicky pressed in with his teeth, causing quick and sharp love bites to welt up on the skin quickly before soothing them with is tongue.</p><p>"Ah! Ah!!!!" Booker moaned with abandon, wanting Nicky and Joe to hear how happy he was. He let his eyes fall closed as he enjoyed the situation.</p><p>Nicky hummed appreciatively at Booker's vocals and rewarded him with a soft suck and nip at his pulse point. He could feel Booker's heartbeat rabbiting under his tongue and he nuzzled in, moving sides to clamp down again. <em>Mine</em>. The thought was so visceral and hungry. Nicky's hands moved to Booker's hair, holding is head back, and pressed delicate nibbles against the skin leading up to his ear.</p><p>It was heaven. It was hell. It was ecstasy. Booker wasn't floating, but he felt that same utter joy he felt when laughing at something Joe said, amplified tenfold. He loved the sting and the pressure. He loved the heat and the hunger. Booker wanted nothing more than to remain here all night as Nicky's living canvas.</p><p>Nicky drew back a moment to examine his work, eyes bright and laser focused. He ran his thumb down the blossoming line of bruises, feeling the warmth and smiled faintly, proud. "<em>Bellissimo</em>." He shifted, giving a delighted groan at the pressure and change of position as he ducked his head back down.</p><p>"Yours. Always yours. I belong to you now." Booker keened, his thumbs stroking Nicky's hipbones through his shirt. "Oh, Nicky...Nicolò...! Ah!"</p><p>Nicky felt feral and unrestrained once more, like in a way before things got <em>dangerous</em>. He bit down against Booker's shoulder hard, sucking frantically and pressing his tongue into the bite mark. He could barely think straight. All he wanted was Booker, supplicant like this. He dragged his mouth away, panting raggedly.</p><p>Closing his eyes, Nicky nuzzled into the spit-slick skin. His body felt like it was vibrating. "Mine." He whispered, almost reverent, almost like a prayer. Something deep inside of him loosened at the word, a calming to the buzz in his nerves, an affirmation, and a spreading of sureness. He kissed the spot again and again.</p><p>He barely noticed when Joe slipped in beside them, so caught up in his thoughts.</p><p>"Yours. I am yours. I am <em>yours</em>, Nicolò." Booker felt like he was begging, pleading to be understood and accepted. The energy of the room was intense, like something wicked and divine was surging around him. He was lost in the whirlwind, clinging to Nicky like a lifeline. Where was Joe? He should be here. With them. Writhing and panting. Demanding and obeying. Pain and pleasure melting into one. Booker felt blood drip down his skin, his shoulder a mess of saliva and blood.</p><p>Joe sensed Booker's distress and threaded his fingers with Booker's. It took a bit of maneuvering to get Booker leaning against his chest in a way that wasn't uncomfortable. He kissed Booker's temple. "You're resplendent, lover." His other hand skimmed over Booker's side. "Can we take off your shirt?"</p><p>"Yes. Please. Want to feel you." Booker moaned, squeezing Joe's hand. His other hand stayed on Nicky's hip.</p><p>They wrestled Booker out of his shirt, and Joe immediately moved to press a hungry line of kisses over the back of his neck and shoulders. "Ours." He murmured, squeezing Booker's hand again.</p><p>Nicky panted against Booker's neck, rutting against him lazily and clumsily. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and pulled his head back to study Booker. He smoothed a hand down Booker's cheek, thumb rubbing below Booker's lower lip. Swallowing thickly, Nicky let out a shuddering gasp. "Sébastien, may I kiss you? <em>Please.</em>"</p><p>Booker shivered as the cool air hit his skin, despite the heat of the fireplace close at hand. He rested one hand on Joe's thigh, anchoring himself as he looked into Nicky's wild eyes. Overwhelmed by Nicky's fervent passion and Joe's steady eroticism, there was only one answer he could give. "<em>Yes.</em>"</p><p>Without a second thought, Nicky dove in for the kiss. He cupped Booker's cheeks and shivered against him. It felt like coming home, like the most splendid of blasphemies and joys. He sucked on Booker's lower lip and worried it with his teeth before parting briefly, only to lick into his mouth.</p><p>Booker clung to Nicky, moaning loudly as he finally tasted those full lips. His desires were finally being fulfilled. Their tongues tangled together in an ancient dance, their bodies lighting up with desire and devotion. Nicky tasted like wine and herbs and something masculine and rich. He matched Nicky's frantic pace, wanting to claim his lover just as much as he wanted to be claimed.</p><p>Joe let Booker suck in a few unsteady breaths before it was his turn. Booker's mouth was wet, his lips warm, and <em>fuck</em> he tasted so good! The angle wasn't ideal for a deep kiss, and it was slightly messy, but it was perfect. He slipped his mouth away, an expression of awe on his face as he just <em>looked</em> at Booker. He rubbed two of his fingers over Booker's lips and bit at his neck and earlobe. "Our good boy."</p><p>Like Nicky, Joe tasted of the wine and herbs from dinner, but he also tasted of something light and sparkling but still masculine. It was like Nicky was a rich red wine and Joe was an expensive champagne. Both men tasted exquisite. Booker licked at the fingers pressed to his lips before drawing them into his mouth. He suckled on them, mewling like a whore when he was praised. He was theirs. He was good. He was wanted. He had fallen, and they had caught him.</p><p>Nicky's hands frantically pet over Booker's skin. "You feel so good, taste so good..." He sucked in a breath, mouth hovering against Booker's temple, breathing ragged. "Making me feel crazy." He gave a slightly breathless laugh. "And you're gonna make me come."</p><p>Booker couldn't speak around the fingers in his mouth, but he forced his eyes open to give Nicky a seductive look. His free hand slipped down Nicky's chest before resting on his crotch. He massaged Nicky's cock through his pants, moaning and mewling around the digits he was practically fellating now.</p><p>Nicky held Booker's gaze as his pace and his breathing increased, hands clutched greedily over Booker's ribs before his eyes rolled back and he let out a soft, stuttered noise. The front of Nicky's pants grew wet with his release. Booker kept his hand steady, occasionally squeezing Nicky through his pants just to hear him moan. His other hand reached up to tangle in Joe's hair again, one of his new favorite things to do.</p><p>Joe's hand rubbed up and down Booker's thigh as he kept nuzzling and kissing his neck, murmuring soft praises to him in a litany of languages. His fingers tugged at the soft fabric of Booker's lounge pants, and he groaned against Booker's skin as he felt the outline of his cock through the fabric.</p><p>It was strange, being unable to speak and utter the filth and praise and adoration waiting on his tongue, but Booker had not been told to stop sucking, so he kept going. It wasn't exactly like it was a hardship. His hips rolled up into Joe's hand, seeking friction and release. Booker kept his gaze on Nicky, his hand coming up to caress his cheek and soothe him through the aftershocks.</p><p>Joe's thumb rubbed at the edge of Booker's mouth before he slipped his fingers out and leaned down to kiss Booker chastely. He closed his hand around the bulge in Booker's pants, fingers closed in the approximation of a fist for Booker to fuck into. Nicky's mouth skimmed along the bright collar of bruises before he tongued at the raised bitemark, sucking at the wound to make it sting. Booker sighed happily as he fucked up into Joe's fist. It felt so good to let go of the shame and self-hatred that had chained him for so long and just <em>feel</em>. His eyes fluttered closed as he savored the moment.</p><p>"Joe...please...make me come..." Booker hissed in pain as Nicky worried at his shoulder wound.</p><p>Joe kissed Booker's throat, eyes flicking over to Nicky who had started to gently rake his nails over Booker's chest. He tightened his grip and stroked in firm, strong tugs. He slipped his hand down, spreading the dampness until Booker’s cock was almost firmly outlined. He pressed his thumb against the base as his hand curled and cupped Booker's scrotum and rolled in a slow massage.</p><p>"O-Oh...oh! Oh! Oh <em>God</em>!" Booker screamed as he came, almost blacking out from how good it felt. Years of repression made even the simplest orgasm feel like a nuclear explosion. His pants were stained with his come as he sagged against Joe. Booker looked thoroughly debauched and he still had almost all of his clothes on! "Joe...I want you to come. Wanna make you come this time…"</p><p>"Not quite, pet, but close." Nicky murmured against Booker's shoulder, gently smoothing a hand down his back. "Move with me, that way you can play with Joe and be comfortable." They moved so Joe was spread across the length of the couch propped against the arm with Booker settled between his spread knees and Nicky at Booker's back.</p><p>Joe peered up at the two of them, mouth slightly parted, flush high on his face. He ran his hands up and down Booker's arms in a soothing motion.</p><p>"Tell me what you want, <em>mon cher</em>. Tell me what you need..." Booker murmured, leaning down to kiss and lick at Joe's neck. He kissed down to where Joe's shoulder met his neck, worrying at the skin with his teeth until a bruise began to form. "There...you're mine now…"</p><p>Joe let out a reedy noise and something akin to a sob as he rolled his hips up, trying to buck for friction. "Anything. <em>Everything</em>. Your hands." His eyes rolled fluttered shut when Nicky's hand guided one of Booker's hands into his hair, instructing him wordlessly on how to scratch and tug.</p><p>Booker carefully got his knees under him, making sure not to bump into anything sensitive on Joe. He smiled gently down at Joe, cooing soothing noises at him as he let Nicky teach him how to play Joe like a fiddle. When he felt that Joe was sufficiently worked up, he replaced his hand with Nicky's in Joe's hair. Then, he trailed down Joe's chest, stopping at his waistband. Booker bit his lip, thinking for a moment before coming to a decision. He slipped his fingertips down beyond Joe's waistband, just barely brushing Joe's bare cock. "Is this okay, <em>mon cher</em>?"</p><p>Joe's eyes twisted shut when Booker's hands tugged perfectly at his hair and then nodded breathlessly when his fingers started teasing. He sucked in a sharp breath when Booker's hand, unimpeded, brushed over his cock and hauled him down into a kiss. He rolled against Booker's fingers erratically, too keyed up for any sort of finesse and knowing full well just how much noise he was making. His hands clutched at Booker's biceps before he humped himself against Booker's fingers and came in series of messy spurts.</p><p>Oh, the <em>noise</em> Joe was making! He was like sex made flesh, lust incarnate. Booker could practically <em>feel</em> the pleasure rolling off of his man, and he smiled into their kiss at the knowledge that <em>he</em> was the reason for it. When they broke for air, he carefully withdrew his hand from Joe's pants. Booker stared at the come clinging to his skin, transfixed by the pearly white substance. He looked up and held Joe's gaze as he brought his fingers to his lips, tasting Joe's seed. The salty, bitter taste set his mouth alight, and he moaned in pleasure as he cleaned his fingers.</p><p>Nicky pet through Booker's hair, kissing the back of his neck and rubbing the length of his spine. He smiled into Booker’s skin at the intense look on Joe's face, the look of utter adoration that was deep in his eyes. "Wonderfully done, pet." Nicky kissed along the line of Booker's jaw.</p><p>Joe's mouth curled into a lazy smile and he sat up on his elbows, licking along the seam of Booker's lips before kissing him properly. "Thank you, Bas, but I think we all need to clean up a bit more."</p><p>"Do you think your bath is big enough for the three of us, <em>mon cher</em>?" Booker sighed, nuzzling into Joe. He left a little come on his index finger, offering it to Nicky. He basked in the praise, practically glowing from it. This was peace. This was joy.</p><p>Nicky sucked on two of Booker's fingers with a quiet, approving noise before drawing his mouth back with a wet sound. "Perhaps, but as much as I'd like to, I'm not sure how wise it would be." He pressed his tongue to one of the dark purple-red bruises on Booker's neck. "Don't want to rush things."</p><p>"If you think so, <em>mon ange</em>." Booker looked over his shoulder at his other lover. "Then what should we do, Nico? I don't want to be apart from you tonight. Either of you."</p><p>Joe toyed with a piece of Booker's hair. "I vote each of us take the world's quickest showers, change and then pile back up here or..." His eyes flicked to Nicky's face a moment. "Or you can join us upstairs."</p><p>Booker's smile widened. "Are you inviting me to your bed, Joe? Oh, a boy could lose his honor and virtue in such a den of wickedness and profanity." He laughed, snickering at his shitty impression of the men and women he'd known growing up. "I wouldn't mind. Just for sleeping, though. If that's all right."</p><p>"More than alright." Nicky assured, slowly climbing off the couch and stretching his legs that had been bunched up. "Do you want the first shower, Bastien?"</p><p>"Yes, thank you." Booker got up as well, stretching before leaning down to draw Joe into a gentle yet insistent kiss. Then he turned to Nicky and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss, sighing happily as he let go. "I'll call down when I'm done, <em>mes amis</em>." With that, he got up and headed upstairs, eager to get his shower done and over with so he could come back downstairs.</p><p>Nicky turned to look at where Joe was still lazily sprawled on the couch, waited a moment until he could hear the sound of the water running, and smacked him in the leg. "You didn't have come all over him, you utter bastard."</p><p>Joe gave a smug grin and tucked his hands behind his head. "Marked him in my own way."</p><p>Nicky scoffed before moving to lean in and press a few lazy kisses to Joe's throat before sighing against the skin. "I really hope this doesn't backfire."</p><p>Joe scratched a hand through Nicky’s hair. "It'll all work out in the end. Trust me, I know these things."</p><p>Nicky stretched his arms over his head. "Yeah, yeah, cryptic demon bullshit." He yawned a bit and scratched through his own hair. "C'mon, popcorn, drinks, setting up the room."</p><p>Joe hauled himself up off the couch. "You love him, don't you?"</p><p>Nicky paused on his way to the kitchen, looking over his shoulders. "Only as much as you do."</p><p>Joe simply smiled.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They'd managed to get drinks poured and popcorn made by the time Booker finished showering. They politely passed him a pair of sweats and a shirt through the door before they shuffled around and managed to get themselves clean and piled onto the deluxe king-sized bed in Joe and Nicky's room. Nicky tucked himself against Booker's left, and Joe to his right.</p><p>Booker had been absently petting the marks on his neck while he and Nicky waited for Joe to finish showering. Nicky watched Booker, eyes intense. "I hope that wasn't too much, I know we haven't really discussed boundaries or safewords or anything.”</p><p>"It wasn't, <em>mon ange</em>. It really wasn't. I...I really like them. It feels good. To be marked, to feel like I'm..." Booker blushed again. "...To feel <em>owned</em>." He ducked his head, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the bowl of popcorn. "It's silly, isn't it? I want us to talk about all this tomorrow, but...tonight, it feels right. It feels good."</p><p>"Not silly at all," Joe assured, kissing Booker's head and neck. "I'm glad we can make you feel good and special." He scratched gently along Booker's scalp. "You wanted us to show you things. This is part of the experience, trying all kinds of things and finding out what you like."</p><p>"You marked us both back, too." Nicky said with a smile, proudly baring the red mark just under his jaw. He shifted a bit, taking a small handful of popcorn and pressing a piece to Booker's lips.</p><p>"It's like I said: you're mine as much as I am yours." Booker grinned before allowing Nicky to feed him. He felt safe and secure, which let him discover the hidden parts of himself. Apparently, he was secretly a cheeky bastard. "If you keep feeding me like this, I'll lose my figure." He snickered.</p><p>"Oh no, whatever will we do if there's more of you to smother with affection?" Joe asked with a dramatic expression. He slipped down the bed a bit, pillowing his head on Booker's side.</p><p>Booker began idly scritching Joe's scalp, laughing with him. "Flatterer. Lying is a sin, you know." He teased, turning towards Nicky and kissing his cheek. "Let's stay here forever, hm? Just us."</p><p>"So is lust and I don't see you complaining," Joe retorted, turning to bite at the meat of Booker's palm.</p><p>"I think the bed would eventually disintegrate, but I don't know if I'd care." Nicky murmured, putting the empty bowl of popcorn aside. He clicked off the light on the side table and then messed with the white noise machine before selecting the quiet rainstorm. He slipped further down to rest on his pillow, curled into Booker's side.</p><p>Booker looked over at Joe and beckoned him closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his lips. "I think he needs to be held, <em>mon cher</em>." He whispered, looking down at Nicky. He'd noticed that Nicky had seemed...strained...a few times tonight. Like he was struggling with something. Booker wanted to make him feel safe, just like he felt safe, and so beckoned for Joe to go to Nicky's other side and hold him.</p><p>Joe hummed, peering at Nicky, then to look at Booker. "You sure?" He didn't want to leave Booker unbracketed. Booker's expression made him reconsider and climbed over to the other side, so he was tucked into Nicky's back.</p><p>Nicky's soft smile widened when Joe tucked against his back and he reached back to take hold of his hand and pulled it so Joe's arm was around his waist. Nicky shifted a bit, peered up at Booker with a soft expression, and then kissed him gently.</p><p>"As much as I want to be held by the both of you, <em>mon ange</em>, you look like you need it more." Booker caressed Nicky's cheek, savoring the kiss. "We will guard your sleep. Rest now. Whatever it is, you can tell us in the morning. <em>Oui</em>?"</p><p>Nicky nodded softly. "Tonight was great, I've just gotten in my head a bit." He yawned softly and shut his eyes. "Thank you."</p><p>"<em>De rien, mon ange</em>." Booker smiled, kissing Nicky's brow like a benediction. He kept his lips pressed there as he murmured a prayer. "<em>Thank you, Lord, for blessing me on this day. Thank you for these men, your angels. Blessed are you, oh Lord. Bless all of us sinners, Mother Mary. Amen.</em>"</p><p>Nicky had to admit, he felt more than a little moved. And he could tell Joe was touched, odd as it was.  He moved his lips in his own silent prayer: <em>Thank you, Father, for gifting myself and my consort this beautiful human to remake and show the true beauty of this world, liberated from oppression.</em> He wrapped his arm around Booker, pulled him against his chest, pressed his face into the back of Booker's neck, and slept.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title taken from "Big God" by Florence + The Machine.</p><p>Hope you enjoyed, please leave a comment and kudos it really keeps us motivated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Slithered Here From Eden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago<br/>Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword<br/>Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know<br/>I slithered here from Eden just to hide outside your door</i>
</p><p>In which secrets are revealed, deliverance comes in many forms, and Eden emerges in the shape of teeth-mark bruises.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tags And Warnings: </p><p>Blasphemy, Prayer Used As A Weapon (Unintentionally And Out Of Fear), Biting, Sexual Innuendo And Situations, Bloodplay, Demonology, BDSM (Talked About Between Willing Partners), Mentions Of Bondage, Spanking, Consensual Hitting, And Other Kinky Situations</p><p>The prayer used by Booker is the "Prayer To Saint Michael."</p><p>If you see anything that's missing, please let us know!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Late the next afternoon, soft music was coming from Booker's room, his door half-open. Nicky made his way toward the door, knocking on the frame. "Bastien, are you busy? Can I come in?"</p><p>"Oh! Of course, <em>mon ange</em>. I'm just job hunting again. I could use a break." Booker lowered the volume on his radio. He had been researching book restoration jobs. Sadly, nothing had turned up yet, but it was a bit of a niche job to begin with, so he wasn't discouraged yet. He wanted to bring something to the household beyond his cooking skills. He got up from his desk and sat on his bed, patting the space next to him, hoping for a cuddle.</p><p>Nicky made his way into the room and smiled at Booker before sitting down next to him. "I thought you might like to read the original, with all of my addendums and notes." Nicky held out the thick tome of the Lesser Key of Solomon toward Booker. "Most of my marginalia are in Italian but..." He looked to the large book with it's myriad of stickers, the insides marked with pencil.</p><p>Booker gasped, handling the book with care. Granted, it wasn't an incredibly rare edition, but it was Nicky's, and that made it precious to him. He absently kissed Nicky's cheek as he opened the book and flipped through it, marveling over the illustrations and notes in Nicky's striking handwriting. "This is amazing! I can use my phone to translate your notes, I think." He looked up at his boyfriend and smiled. "Thank you."</p><p>"I marked some passages I thought you might find interesting." He shifted a bit to move so he was sitting in lotus position next to Booker. "And I wanted to talk to you about a few things, since I'm sure you have questions and..." He heaved out a breath. "I don't want to keep things from you."</p><p>With an eyebrow raised, Booker turned to the highlighted passages in front of him before looking back at Nicky. "Keep things from me? <em>Mon ange</em>, what's wrong? Is this what was bothering you last night?" He kissed Nicky's cheek again, reveling in the knowledge that he could do this whenever he wanted to now.</p><p>Nicky opened and closed his mouth a few times before he gave a small nod. "I've done a few things..." He looked to his lap a moment. "I have a real mean streak in me. I've gotten into more than a few fights, more than half of them I started. I can get so <em>angry</em>." He swallowed thickly and heaved out a breath. "I have a dark side that can be scary. I don't want to scare you."</p><p>Booker absently noted which section of the book he was on (<em>Dantalion</em>, or something like it) before closing it and setting it aside. He turned towards his boyfriend, reaching out to take Nicky's hands in his own. "We all have darkness within us, <em>mon ange</em>. Anger and fury and hatred. Sin is within all of us. It is not the sin itself that makes us evil, it's what we do about the sin within us that determines who we are." He brought Nicky's hands to his lips, kissing his knuckles.</p><p>Nicky smiled faintly, fingers slipping over Booker's cheeks and let out a slow breath. "It's been a while since I've felt like this about someone and I feel like I'm going to ruin it." He licked his lips, meeting Booker's eyes. "I..." He cleared his throat. "I'm just so <em>tired</em>. I'm tired of being sorry for who I am."</p><p>"Nico, my love..." Booker pulled him closer, freeing one hand to caress his cheek. "<em>You</em> taught me that I shouldn't apologize for who I am. That I shouldn't be scared. That I should be free. The same goes for you too, <em>mon ange</em>." Booker frowned. "What are you afraid of?"</p><p>Nicky smiled brightly and squeezed his hand and leaned into Booker's caress. "Promise me you'll listen to me the whole way through this?"</p><p>"I promise, <em>mon ange</em>. I'll listen." Booker nodded, smiling in return.</p><p>Nicky stood up from the bed and moved so he was standing in front of Booker and took both of Booker's hands in his for a moment, pressing their palms together and relishing the feeling. He knew if Andy and Quynh were here they'd laugh at him for being so nervous, for being so worked up over a <em>human</em>, but this was different.</p><p>He pulled the metaphorical ripcord on his parachute and released the hold on the glamour and stem of his power. When he reopened his eyes, they were almost pure white, ringed in gold at the iris, and the crackle of energy around him was like burnt ozone and smoke. He heard part of the wall behind him crack as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before leveling his gaze with Booker's. His voice, when he spoke, was similar to his usual voice, but it echoed with a thousand dark promises at once. He smiled, a small, slightly impish grin.</p><p>"Fear not, Sébastien."</p><p>The air in the room was ablaze with power. Booker was rooted to the spot, frozen, his hands gripping Nicky's so tightly that their blood flow was cut off. After a moment, his white-knuckled grip was relinquished, and Booker threw himself backwards on the bed, scrambling away from the thing that wore Nicky's face. His fear was a palpable thing, and he clutched at the cross hanging from his neck. "Who....<em>What</em> are you!?"</p><p>Yeah, okay. Strong opening move. Probably too strong now that he gave it a second thought. Nicky pulled back into himself, almost wincing at the sharp lance of fear from Booker. He was like a raw, exposed nerve. "Second John, Chapter 1, Verse 7."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Many deceivers have gone out into the world, those who do not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh; any such person is the Deceiver and the Antichrist!"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Booker went pale as his mind supplied the correct verse. The Antichrist. Lord Almighty, Mother Mary, Jesus Christ! The man he had fallen in love with, the man he had opened his heart and mind and body and soul to, was the <em>Anathema</em>! He rolled off the bed, putting it between him and the monster before him. Even as the creature drew its power back into itself and became Nicky again, Booker's fear wasn't soothed. "...And Joe?" He could barely speak for the shivering.</p><p>"Joe is a demon, commonly classified as a concubus." Nicky replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking. All of the feelings rolling from Booker were fear now. Fear that <em>he</em> caused, and unlike the countless other times he'd made people fall to their knees in terror, this <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>"A <em>seducer!?</em>" Booker grabbed at the wall, trying to hold himself up. Fear, the likes of which he had not felt since leaving everything he knew behind to spend the rest of his life repenting, flowed through his veins like ice. Words came to his lips, drilled into him since birth, and he prayed for protection as he tried to think of a way out.</p><p>"<em>Sancte Michael, defende nos in proelio, ut non pereamus, in tremendo iudicio.</em>"</p><p>"You said you would—" And then the prayer started, and Nicky had none of his walls up. It hit him like a freight train, strong enough to stagger him back into the wall and wrench a pained choke from him. It felt like his insides were being twisted, and the longer Booker went, the harder it felt to breathe. Nicky sagged against the wall, his eyes screwed shut as Booker crossed himself.</p><p>"Was any of this <em>real</em><em>!?</em>" Booker screamed, his ears roaring with blood. "Or was it all a <em>lie</em>? All those times I expressed my need, my desires, my adoration of you, you looked away! Was it to laugh, Nicolò? Is that what I was? Another tally in your list of souls? Another game piece to be won? You had weeks to tell me! And all this time I...I <em>loved</em> you!"</p><p>"Of course, it was real!" Nicky managed between gasping breaths. Speaking felt like fighting for every syllable, like razors were in his throat. He was pretty sure his nose was bleeding. Booker was rage and fury and fear. His words echoed in Nicky's brain, and all Nicky wanted to do was reach out and soothe him, but he couldn't muster the strength.</p><p>"How can I believe you?" Booker asked, almost pleading, almost begging for a divine answer as he looked to the sky. All he saw was the roof. He looked down and saw the painting of Nicky's eyes, furious and breathtaking...and cruel. So cruel. He looked back at the Antichrist, the evil he allowed into his heart. Booker felt fear race up his spine. It was all a lie.</p><p>Liar. Thief. <em>Liar</em><em>!</em> <em>MONSTER</em><em>!</em> The voices of his village screamed at him.</p><p>Booker ran.</p><p>He burst through his door and into the hall. He saw Joe in the kitchen, and prayer rose to his lips in mindless, terrified self-defense. <em>"Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio; contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium. Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur: tuque, Princeps militiae caelestis, Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos...</em>"</p><p>He never finished it. Somehow, Booker grabbed his shoes and his coat without looking. When he had them, he bolted out the door and into the fading light.</p><p>Silence settled into the house and slowly Joe made his way toward the bedroom, the itch and sting and bruising of the unfinished deliverance throbbing with each footfall. He peered into the room, where Nicky was a small, crumpled heap on the floor, twitching with phantom shocks, face a mess of blood and tears. Joe sunk down next to Nicky and gathered him in his arms when Nicky let out a quiet sob.<br/>"What are we supposed to do now? I don't want to move. I don't want to lose him."</p><p>Joe bit the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes, blaspheming softly. "We'll figure this out, Nico. I promise." He pressed a hand into Nicky's hair and kissed the top of his head. "This is why the other demons say you're soft, you know."</p><p>"Well, they can kiss my ass." Nicky murmured, still gasping softly.</p><p>Joe chuckled softly. "They don't know you or the depths of you. Neither does he. Not yet. It was a panicked reaction. You had to know it was a possibility."</p><p>Nicky sniffled. "Of course, but I didn't think it would hurt like this."</p><p>"Ah, Nico. I've told you before that all pain comes from even the smallest seed of love." Joe folded Nicky deeper into his arms.</p><p>Nicky shook Joe forcefully a few times. "I hate you."</p><p>Joe scooted back a bit, using his sleeve to wipe Nicky's face. "I know."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Booker had wandered mindlessly through Cologne for hours. The sun had set, and the streetlights turned on. He was cold, tired, and hungry. One would think that he would end up at the church immediately, but instead, he found himself standing at the river. Booker watched the lights of the city reflect on the water, trying to gather his thoughts into something coherent.</p><p>Demons were real. It opened a whole new terrifying world to him. He had given his heart to the Anathema and his consort, a demon of desire and lust. So many things were clear to him now, so many unanswered questions given closure. Where Joe disappeared to, why they needed the basement as a dungeon, why Nicky laughed at the church. He remembered how much pain his frightened prayers had caused them. Booker turned away from the water and kept walking.</p><p>Sometime later, he found himself in his old home, unable to remember how he got in. It was still in his name, but he hadn't been back in weeks. There were few things left here: the old table, the hand-me-down chairs, the rickety bed frame. Impersonal and easily forgotten. Booker sat on a chair and felt something bump against his chest. He opened his coat and found <em>Demonology</em> tucked into the inner pocket. Booker vaguely remembered that he had put the small volume there earlier that morning, to read while at the cafe. He opened it.</p><p>
  <em>Demons cannot lie. They can only speak the truth. However, demons are adept at twisting the truth to suit their purposes. Force them to speak plainly and be specific. Only then will you gain a real answer.</em>
</p><p>Booker remembered what Nicky had said. <em>"Of course it was real."</em> Was this the truth, or a twisting of it? Of course it was real...for Booker. But Nicky? Joe? It was unclear.</p><p>Another page: <em>All demons have True Names. If you somehow gain a demon's True Name, be assured that they are speaking the truth unfettered. End your questions with their True Name, and they are bound to speak truly. Gaining this name is nearly impossible, though...</em> A True Name? Did Nicky have one? Joe did, certainly, but what was it?</p><p>
  <em>Dantalion!</em>
</p><p>The page Nicky had highlighted for him! Was it a clue? Had Nicky...had he meant for Booker to know all along?</p><p>The books, the talk of demons, Joe's hesitation when Booker prayed...it all made sense now. Nicky had been distant the night before because he had wanted to tell him. Booker looked up and saw his image reflected in an old mirror. He only had a t-shirt on under his coat. His neck was exposed. The pale skin was littered with bruises, tangible proof of Joe and Nicky's claim. Booker remembered the pleasure they had shared last night. How gentle they were, how caring, so careful to make sure that he felt happy and safe. All that attention focused on him. Unselfish and adoring. Like...like...<em>Worship</em>. Could he trust them? Could he believe them? He had been here before, weeks ago, and he had only known happiness since then. Could he try, one last time? If he was wrong, this would break him. Booker knew this as surely as the sun rose in the east. And yet, he wanted to.</p><p>Could he? Yes. He could. He <em>would.</em>. Booker would leave his old life behind him and place his bets on the future. On two men. Two demons. The men he loved.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"It's been a <em>day</em>, Nicky, and he was just a <em>mortal</em>," Andy's voice drawled through the laptop screen. "You're the heir to a demonic kingdom and you're moping about a <em>human</em>."</p><p>Nicky dragged his hands over his face, eyeing the half-finished bottle of elderflower gin on his desk. He poured another few fingers of gin into his glass before knocking it back. "You're not the boss of me, Andromache."</p><p>Andy snorted and folded her arms. "No, and you're not some peon king I bow to. Snap the fuck out of it or I will march over there and kick your sorry ass."</p><p>Nicky glared at her through his fingers, partly dragging his hands over his face. "But Joe said—"</p><p>"Joe's been in his vessel for a thousand years with permission from his host; they integrated ages ago and he's not even really a true demon."</p><p>"You take that back Andy!"</p><p>Andy's figure on screen pivoted as if looking in the direction Joe shouted from. "When was the last time you even sacrificed a virgin, Yusuf!"</p><p>Joe trooped over to the screen and bent so he was partly on camera. "Fuck you."</p><p>Andy smirked. "Point being, you two are probably the most unconventional pair Hell could have devised but you don't have the dominion on evil. Even your leader is a softie, Daddy's boy that he is."</p><p>Nicky ground his teeth together and heaved out a calming breath. "Andy. Do you have anything to say besides your words of wisdom?"</p><p>"Quynh found you guys a lawyer. Chaos magician. Name's Lykon, he's from England." Andy said, lighting a cigarette before leaning back in her seat. "He's offered to look over the bulk over your paperwork."</p><p>"Well, some good news, at least." He glanced to the clock, mood slipping back into upset. By now he and Booker would have made lunch together.</p><p>"Look, I can't stand whatever the fuck emotion that is on your face, I'm going." Nicky's eyes darted to the screen and he nodded before the call disconnected and he sat back in the chair.</p><p>He swerved back and forth a few times and then pulled himself up. Lunch. Then mope.</p><p>Making his way into the kitchen, Nicky found Joe in the midst of making sandwiches and slid up against him. Joe's head bumped against his own and he felt the comfort of Joe's tail wind around his waist and the top of his thigh.</p><p>"Turkey with provolone, red onions, and grainy mustard." Joe said, nudging the plate toward Nicky.</p><p>"Thanks, <em>caro</em>," It had been the sandwich that Nicky had always made in college when he felt maudlin. He bit into it and rubbed his cheek against Joe's shoulder. "Andy pisses me off so much."</p><p>"Hey, she's older than you and this vessel I’m in. Technically older than recorded religion. She gets to be bitchy. She's wrong, though." Joe pet a hand through Nicky’s hair.</p><p>"Doesn't make me not want to punch her through a wall." Nicky took another bite of the sandwich. "I'd break my hand, but I'd feel better."</p><p>Joe fixed Nicky with a look, raising his brows. "Want to punch <em>me</em> through a wall later?"</p><p>"...Maybe." Nicky sighed. "I haven't felt this confused in a while."</p><p>"Imagine how <em>he</em> feels."</p><p>Nicky pressed his lips into a thin line and shoved another bite of food in his mouth before turning at a knock on the door. Nicky opened the door to the house and let out a shocked noise at the sight of Booker.</p><p>Booker looked like hell. He had barely slept, agonizing over his decision all night. Yes, he wanted them. No, he wouldn't stay if it was just a game. Yes, he loved them. No, he needed to be more than a plaything. Yes, yes, yes...no, no, no. Over and over again. The only thing that would help him make his final choice was the truth. And so, here he was.</p><p>"Sébastien." He looked like he had circles under his eyes to rival Nicky's own. Nicky's hand fumbled on the doorknob and he forced himself to stand up a bit straighter, drawing on the well of confidence inside of himself. "You came back."</p><p>"Yes. May I...come in?" Booker shuffled awkwardly, trying to find that confidence they had once given him. There was determination in his eyes, but there was also worry. A hint of fear, but of what, even he didn't know.</p><p>"Can you promise not to do anymore deliverance prayers in the house?" Nicky asked, eyes roaming over Booker's face.</p><p>"I swear it." Booker put his hand over his heart, not his cross like he usually did when promising things.</p><p>Nicky nodded once and stepped aside to let Booker into the house before closing the door behind him. "Joe's in the kitchen," Nicky said, eyes turning toward the arch leading into the kitchen. "He doesn't look like..." May as well rip off the band aid, the whole cat was out of the bag now. "Because of your prayer he can't mask his form like he usually does. It will fade in time, but I'm warning you that if you want to see him, he won't look fully human."</p><p>"I understand." Booker murmured, moving into the kitchen. What he saw made him pause, but not in fear. There was lust, yes, but mostly awe and admiration. Joe was beautiful. No, beautiful was too pitiful a word. Still, Booker was here for a reason. The tail and the horns were the least of his concerns. He had something to try first.</p><p>"...<em>Dantalion</em>...?"</p><p>Joe had been trying to act composed as he felt Booker approaching, the edges of his aura still raw, and then he had to go and Name him. The plate slipped from Joe's fingers and shattered on the tile floor. His head snapped up toward Booker and everything in him vibrated tensely, at attention.</p><p>"So it <em>is</em> true..." Booker gasped, his eyes fixated on Joe. "Nicky had the page marked to your name. If he hadn't marked it, I never would have guessed it on my own. You...You <em>wanted</em> me to know...?"</p><p>"Of course I wanted you to know. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you since you moved in." Nicky said quietly from behind Booker, walking around him and carefully sweeping up the pieces of the broken dish.</p><p>"Names have power," Joe said, leaning against the counter next to the sink. "Most people who learn of demonic ones tend to use them to enslave demons to do their bidding or excise us. Or, you know, torture us, so I tend to find other ones that work in society. Besides, most people pronounce it wrong, but like so many things, you tend to do well on your first try."</p><p>Booker's hands clenched into fists, a nervous gesture. So far, so good. They didn't kill him over knowing Joe's True Name. Only one more thing to test. "The book says that demons cannot lie, but they twist the truth." Booker knew that he had power over Joe now. The only thing left was to see if Nicky was on the level before he asked his questions. "Nicolò...the truth. Do you swear upon Dantalion's life that all you say from now until I release you is the truth, untwisted and unfettered?"</p><p>Nicky's mouth opened in shock a bit before his expression turned proud. He wiped his hands off on his jeans, eyes flashing pure white for a moment as he extended his hand towards Booker. "I promise."</p><p>Booker took his hand and held it firmly. He didn't let go, in case Nicky tried to worm his way out of it on a technicality. "Speak the truth: what do you want from me? Tell me <em>everything</em>. I will listen."</p><p>Nicky took his time in considering his words, fingers still loosely wrapped around Booker's. "I want what you offered so readily to give me," he began before turning his head slightly and then turning back to meet Booker's eyes once again. "More than a few times you made the implication of wanting to own and be owned."</p><p>A shiver passed through Booker's body, obvious to anyone who was looking...or who was touching him. "Is that all you want from me?" Booker stared into Nicky's eyes. "What, then, are you willing to give me in return? There is a difference between being owned and being a <em>thing</em> to be owned."</p><p>"What would you prefer to be owned as?" Nicky asked, brows lifting a bit at the statement. "I would give you what you were owed if you were mine. Same as I give Dantalion."</p><p>"As a lover. As an equal. When I'm on my knees, perhaps, I am beneath you, but only because I choose to be. When I rise from them, we stand as equals. When you go to your knees for me, you will be beneath me, but only because you choose to be. When Dantalion goes to his knees for you, Nicolò, do you think less of him?" Booker tilted his head, studying the other man.</p><p>"Of course not." Nicky paused a second and squinted. "Unless at the time it is requested that I change my mindset." He flicked his eyes a bit toward where he could sense Joe hovering, then back to Booker's face. "In spite of what it may seem we are all our own unique and separate men with our own free wills."</p><p>"As you say." Booker nodded, looking at Joe as well. He kept a hold of Nicky's hand, still binding him to the truth, but now his attention was on Joe. "Tell me: was everything that I felt when I was with you real? Did you ever influence me with your powers? The truth, Dantalion. On his life." He nodded towards Nicky.</p><p>Joe shifted his weight from foot to foot, the action surprisingly human. "Once, very briefly, but it failed because you didn't like how I looked at the time. My presence may have also altered your dreams and increased your lustful feelings."</p><p>"...The woman in the street. That was you?" Booker laughed. "After my divorce, I have yet to find a woman who stirs me again." His smile dimmed. "...Dantalion...what is this to you? What am <em>I</em> to you?"</p><p>"At first you caught my attention because you reeked of oppression and I wanted to help, but I got to know you and..." Joe hesitated a moment, sharp teeth catching his lower lip and worrying it. "I still want to help but I want to be with you. I..." He scratched his neck. "It's hard to explain without sounding really cheesy, but there are people in our lives we're fated to meet."</p><p>Booker laughed again. "<em>Mon ami</em>, I'm French. We <em>invented</em> cheesy romance. Explain it to me."</p><p>Joe snorted a laugh and shook his head. "Okay, you're going to have to follow a thread for a minute and it involves metaphysics and predestination. If people are created as they are meant to be by…you know," he gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, "insomuch as it's to be believed, and we all have a purpose, <em>my</em> purpose, aside from self-sufficiency and survival through sex as well as minor acts of corruption, is ultimately <em>romance</em>."</p><p>Booker reached out and drew Joe closer. He looked into his eyes, searching their depths. Yes, it was true: there was lust and need there, but there was also love. So much love. For him. For <em>Booker</em>, of all people. "So what you're saying is...is that you and I were <em>fated</em> to meet? To fall in love?"</p><p>Joe carefully drew a line in the air indicating all three of them and then nodded his head in answer to Booker's question. He realized he hadn't verbalized his answer, so he nodded again. "That's what I believe, yes."</p><p>"And do you? Love me?" Booker asked.</p><p>Joe's mouth curled up into an easy smile. "If not yet, soon. I definitely have warm feelings about you."</p><p>"Okay." Booker took a deep breath, his free hand twitching as he ached to touch Joe again. Instead, he turned back towards Nicky. He took another deep breath and stepped back from Nicky. Slowly, deliberately, he let go of Nicky's hand, releasing him from his promise. "Without trust, there is no love. Without love, there is no trust. I release you from your vow, Nicolò." Booker looked into Nicky's eyes, trying to stand tall and hold steady. Everything hinged on this, on the hope that Nicky wouldn't lie to him. "Nico...do you love me?"</p><p>Nicky's hand suddenly felt very cold when Booker released it and he curled his fingers into his palm, hand falling slack against his side. He swallowed at the question but nodded once, slightly jerky, before nodding again more firmly.</p><p>"<em>Say it</em>, Nico. Please." Booker nearly sobbed. He needed to hear it. "I'm trusting you to tell me the truth."</p><p>"I love you." Nicky breathed out. "I'm in love with you." It felt amazing to say it, so he said again.</p><p>Booker sobbed, tears falling down his cheeks. "I love you too. Both of you. So much." But instead of looking elated, his face crumpled. He fell to his knees, bowed in half, his head down, his palms upturned as if in supplication. He cried out as is if in pain. "I'm sorry...forgive me, I...I'm so sorry..." His words were broken by sobs. "I hurt you...I <em>hurt</em> you so badly…"</p><p>Nicky knelt down slowly in front of Booker and wrapped his arms around Booker, all but hauling him into his lap. "Shh. You were scared. I didn't exactly plan the conversation, or lack thereof, well." He took Booker's hands in his and kissed his knuckles.</p><p>"That's no excuse, Nico. I made you <em>bleed</em>. Joe can't change his form. I caused you so much pain. I promised you I'd listen. I <em>promised</em>, and I broke it, and I hurt you!" Booker tried to push away, feeling unworthy of comfort.</p><p>Nicky let out a slight growl and grabbed Booker's chin firmly, making their eyes meet. "You did. However, you came back. You have a chance to make amends." He rubbed his thumb along the line of Booker's jaw and raised up a bit on his knees to kiss Booker's forehead. "Unlike some in this universe, I'm a kind god. For the most part. What would make you feel like you've atoned?"</p><p>"....Hurt me as I've hurt you." Booker pleaded. "Give me penance. Make me bleed. Make me scream. Make us equal. Please." He gasped. "Give me what I deserve."</p><p>"Hm." Nicky sat back a bit on his heels, a thoughtful look on his face. "Not my usual repertoire but I'm sure I could think of something fitting." He turned his attention more directly to Booker again. "When was the last time you ate?"</p><p>"Yesterday." Booker seemed to relax almost instantly, comforted by the knowledge that he'd be punished. That he was theirs. That they weren't going to throw him out.</p><p>Nicky reached up a hand. Moments later, Joe handed him a plate and Nicky settled so he was sitting on the floor with Booker pillowed against his chest. He set the plate down and lifted up a grape and pressed it to Booker's mouth. "First you're going to eat and shower, and then we're going to decide what to do."</p><p>Joe crouched so he was in Booker's line of vision and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. "We'll take care of you, Bas." He pushed Booker's bangs out of his eyes gently and then set down a glass of water. "I'll be right back." He straightened up, turn on his heel and shimmered out with a small waft of smoke.</p><p>Booker ate the grape, chewing as if in a daze. "He's so beautiful..." He murmured, wondering if Joe's tail was as dexterous as it looked. His eyes turned to Nicky. "And so are you...I was so scared of you, but...even then, all I wanted to do was kneel at your feet and gaze at you." His inhibitions were gone now. He knew that they loved him, that he belonged to them. Booker felt himself falling, too tired and relieved to do anything else.</p><p>Nicky kissed Booker's temple. "You're beautiful too." He pulled up a slice of melon for Booker to bite. "Do you want to move to the couch, or do you want to stay here?" He knew that they probably wouldn't punish Booker tonight if he was already dropping so hard after their conversation, but they would at least make sure Booker had most of his needs met. "And if you don't feel like talking, you can think at me, if you'd like. If that would be easier."</p><p>"You can hear me?" Booker perked up a little, trying to pay attention. "In my mind? That's amazing." He leaned back again, eating his latest snack. <em>'I'd like to go to the couch, please. We should talk, shouldn't we? Before you punish me.'</em></p><p>Nicky nodded, carefully moving with Booker, not quite able to carry him, but getting him, the plate, and the drink to the couch. He settled with Booker still draped over his lap.</p><p>
  <em>'We should, yes. I know you want to be hurt because you inflicted it, but I don't want to hurt you more than is necessary. We should discuss the concept of safewords and limits, amore, and then we can think of what might be appropriate. Though with how drained you are we might need to do something less physical tonight. For your own good.'</em>
</p><p>Nicky turned his attention toward Booker's face with a soft smile, rubbing over his lower lip, not bothering to mask the way his eyes tended to lazily flicker between white and 'human.'</p><p><em>You're right, mon ange. I think I'm just...relieved. That you love me. That you still want me, even after I hurt you.'</em> Booker sighed happily, his tongue sticking out to lick Nicky's fingertips. He gave him a small, cheeky grin. <em>'Don't hide from me, my love. Let me see you. I won't run. Not again. Never again. Let me see you, mon ange...or do you hate that name, my love?'</em></p><p><em>'I think it's funny, it fits Joe better between the two of us, but I think he'd shirk it.'</em> Nicky pressed his thumb down on Booker's tongue before slipping his hand free to press another piece of fruit to Booker's lips. He nosed along Booker's hairline and sighed softly, smiling against the skin. <em>'How can I not love you with the truth of who you are? With the way you look at me as if I'm the center of your universe? With the way you look to Joe?'</em></p><p>Booker leaned back just enough to look Nicky in the eye. He watched as Nicky rolled his shoulders and finally let go of his glamour. His eyes went white, rimmed with gold, and an aura of dark power emanated from him. Instead of feeling oppression or fear, Booker simply felt awe. Beautiful. His men were beautiful. He kissed Nicky's cheeks, one after the other, before looking him in the eye again. He spoke aloud, wanting his words to be heard by the universe itself. "You <em>are</em> the center of my universe, Nico. You and Joe. Only you, only him. My loves. My hearts. My souls. Always." He smiled softly. "I think Joe is rubbing off on me. When I look at you, I'm given to poetry."</p><p>Nicky laughed a bit and nuzzled in against Booker. "You make a very greedy dark part of me very, very happy. The dark, hungry, possessive part I keep pressed down. The way you look at me makes me feel <em>crazed</em>." His mouth pressed over the tender, swollen bite mark on Booker's shoulders. He worried it gently, teasingly, through the fabric of the shirt with his teeth.</p><p>"I told you, <em>mon ange</em>: don't hide from me. Hiding almost destroyed us." Booker moaned quietly. His fingers tangled in Nicky's hair. "Show me. I asked you to tell me everything. Now, show me. Give in, Nicolò." He tugged Nicky's head up, staring into bright white eyes. "<em>Give in to me</em>."</p><p>He didn't have to hide anymore. He could have this. Booker could and wanted to take it. He tugged the neck of the shirt open, tongue pressing hot against the swell of the bite. Even under his tongue the skin felt hot and abused. He rubbed around it with his fingers, pressing against it, dragging his fingers over the tender skin. "Mine," he breathed out over Booker's skin, greedy and reverent.</p><p>"Yours. Forever." Booker sighed happily. He hissed in pain, but the smile never left his face. "If you keep doing that, it'll scar." He moaned, running his hands over his collection of bruises.</p><p>"Good." Nicky pressed the edge of his nail into the small indentation of one of his teeth, giving a pleased hiss at the slightest drop of blood and licked it up. "Mark you all over. Inside and out. The parts that only us wicked things can see. Make sure no one but us touches you."</p><p>Booker whimpered, gasping in pain, but he loved every second of it. He grabbed Nicky by the hair and pulled him into a desperate, needy kiss. Moaning and panting, he licked into Nicky's mouth. He tasted his own blood and shivered. His exhaustion was temporarily forgotten as he begged without words, needing more, more, <em>more</em>!</p><p>"I leave for twenty minutes and come back to such a pretty sight." Joe said, putting the small case he was carrying on the ground. "I thought we were going to have a serious adult conversation tonight."</p><p>Booker reached out blindly for him, pulling Joe towards them and drawing him into the kiss. It was strange and a little awkward, but it was also incredibly hot and erotic. <em>'Talk later. Kiss now.'</em></p><p><em>'Oh, just giving away all our secrets now, hm, azizi?'</em> The thought was more directed towards Nicky, but wasn't filtered.</p><p>Humming, Joe licked over to the shoulder opposite where Nicky had marked Booker, mouth scraping over the mostly unblemished line of skin and scraped down with his sharp teeth to well up little scratches. He pushed a bit closer when the action earned a loud, pleased noise from Booker, and then he snapped his teeth down into the skin and muscle, deep enough to tear and scar.</p><p>"Aaaaaah!" Booker screamed, breaking the kiss as his head snapped back. Tears gathered in his eyes as he sobbed with the pain, but it was quickly overtaken by pleasure. Now the world would know that he was theirs. Perfect! "Joe...Joe! Ah! Yours!" Booker gasped, looking over at his lover. He wanted to lick his horns and feel that delightful tail wrap around his cock. "Don't hide from me. Ever. Neither of you. Never again."</p><p>Nicky kissed and licked away Booker's tears before settling back, slowly sliding Booker from his lap so he could rest between both he and Joe. Nicky leaned over to the table and picked up the plate again before dragging it over and taking a bite of a slice of apple.</p><p>Joe withdrew his mouth carefully with a soft sucking noise and licked up any remnants of blood before wiping over it with his fingers to seal it from bleeding, but not heal it. He gently butted his head to Booker's and smiled against his cheek. "Want some water?"</p><p>"Yes. Please." Booker felt wrung out. He leaned into whoever was holding him up, letting out a tired but contented breath. He drank what was offered, licking the remainder from his lips. "<em>Merci</em>." He nuzzled into Joe's neck for a moment in thanks. "So...we should actually talk, shouldn't we?" He murmured, grinning ruefully.</p><p>"We should." Nicky said with a small smile, turning a bit and pressing a raspberry to Joe's lips as he rested against Booker. "We should know about any of your experiences with anything erotic or intimate, or fantasies or questions. We're happy to answer anything and everything. You don't need to go into great detail if you don't want to, I just need to know how much we're going to need to fill in."</p><p><br/>"And if you don't know how to describe something or what it's called, don't worry, just use the words you have." Joe curled his tongue around the second raspberry Nicky fed him and then turned to take a sip of water. "Or just use your thoughts if you don't mind us listening in."</p><p>Booker nodded, then sighed, this time unhappily. "There isn't much to tell. My roommate told me about shibari and gave me a vague idea that some people liked to submit, but I was so scared of being caught that I never looked up more. Later on, I learned that some people like to be gagged and spanked, and some people cross dressed, but again, I was too scared to look. When I went home after college, the most adventurous thing I ever did was missionary with my wife. She only ever wanted sex if we were trying for a baby. Sometimes I wonder if she was seeing someone else, but she's so devout that it might have all been sincere. I've jerked off before, obviously, but so rarely that I don't know if it counts. There were always too many eyes and ears around, and by the time I came to Cologne, I was too set in my ways to explore my new freedom. That, and the church frowns on it all."</p><p>Joe nodded once, nails tapping against the glass before he set it down. "Did you ever think that your wife was a lesbian? Or asexual? A lot of people end up in marriages just because of societal expectations and they're usually not happy." He mused. "Was the relationship fulfilling outside of sex?"</p><p>"I thought it was. We shared chores. We did nice things for each other. I..." As Booker looked back on things, he realized that it was more like <em>he</em> was the one doing nice things. Manon had just...checked out, early on, except where their sons were involved. "Or...maybe...I don't know. She just...can we please not talk about her tonight?" Booker pleaded.</p><p>Nicky took one of Booker's hands in both of his and kissed his fingertips. "Of course, pet. Out of all the things that you researched or heard about, which ones interested you? Which ones made you uncomfortable?"</p><p>"...There's so much that I don't know. I know that the thought of being on my knees at your feet thrills me. Sometimes pain gives me pleasure, other times, it doesn't. Being told that I'm good sends me floating. I like that feeling, of floating, but I don't know what it is. Maybe you should tell me what you like, and I'll tell you if it sounds good."</p><p>"That floating feeling sounds like a few descriptions I’ve heard of something called subspace, I'll find you a few articles," Joe said. "Sometimes I like pain too, or being rough and mishandled. Other times I like to lie back and be adored. I like to always have some semblance of control, no matter what I'm doing. Sometimes giving up control for me is difficult.”</p><p>When Booker's eyes turned toward him slightly, Nicky smiled, wide and all teeth. "Me? I’m also more than a bit of a slut." He laughed a bit. "I don't mind being roughed up or disciplining, but for me, I'm just... I don't always care how I get fucked. I just want to get fucked. I love being restrained, especially for long periods of time where I can feel the restraints start to meld with my skin and just drift off."</p><p>"It feels nice. I like being there, in subspace." Booker took a piece of fruit and offered it to Nicky. "Being tied up sounds interesting. The patterns on the painting look so sinful. I want to see you like that soon, Nico." He traced Nicky's lips once he'd swallowed. "I want to be fucked hard, but I also want to know what it's like to be adored. I want to try nearly everything. I'll read those books and articles, Joe, and we can find something good." He leaned back in Joe's arms. "You mentioned safewords? What are those?"</p><p>"A safeword, or a safe signal, is something that you have when you're doing something usually emotionally intense, but you can use them and have them for everyday things, too. Usually, it's a word that wouldn't come up during what's commonly called a 'scene', like..." He tipped his head to the side, thinking, "tea kettle. You say that and immediately everything stops, and the people involved have a conversation about what's happening, making sure that everyone is okay." Nicky idly nibbled on Booker's fingers even after he'd finished the segment of orange and then sat up a bit more. "It can be even if you start to feel uncomfortable or vulnerable, or if someone says something that makes you feel bad. Or even if the person in charge is feeling upset about doing something. It's all about people feeling safe."</p><p>"I see. Something so unusual that it makes everyone stop. And you can use it whenever. That sounds very sensible." Booker nodded, tracing a line down Nicky's nose. "What's yours, <em>mon cher</em>?"</p><p>"Magdalene." Nicky replied, twitching away from Booker's hand with a huff at the ticklish sensation.</p><p>Joe flicked his tip of his tail over the line of Booker's nose in a mirrored tease. "And mine is 'pineapple.’"</p><p>Booker giggled, wrinkling his nose. "Then mine will be...'Napoleon.' A right bastard, he was." He snapped his teeth at Joe's tail, looking over at him with an impish grin. "I <em>did</em> see somewhere that eating pineapple makes your semen taste sweet." He snatched Joe's tail from the air, kissing the tip before licking a trail down to where the arrowhead shape merged with the rest of the tail. Then, he suckled on the tip, moaning through a grin as he winked at Nicky.</p><p>"Oh no." Nicky whispered the second he caught onto Booker's idea but then it was too late.<br/>Joe went slack on the couch with a low, unintelligible noise. The action partly drew Booker on top of him and his hand curled into Booker's hair to scratch and pet while a low, rumbling purr emitted from Joe's chest.</p><p>"I've wanted this in my mouth since I first saw it." Booker purred. "I wonder how it will feel around my cock." He suckled on it one more time before letting it go. "Was there anything else we should discuss now, <em>mon ange</em>?" Booker smiled softly. "You know what I want from you. Is there anything I shouldn't do or say? I take care of what is mine."</p><p>Joe gave a soft whine at Booker's words, hips ticking up lazily at the thought and humming as his mind slowly filled in scenarios. He patted Booker's head again, still petting him lazily.</p><p>Nicky laughed softly. "Well, let me think..." He tapped his chin. "I don't think there's much of anything we aren't willing to try at least once. Sometimes Joe and I can get intense, especially if I'm feeling a bit more of an itch toward my darkness, so that might be a bit intimidating."</p><p>"I tend to edge myself a lot. I like to come but I don't always shoot," Joe mumbled into Booker's shoulder. "And I sometimes sleep with other people if I need to feed so I don't hurt Nico, or you now, I guess, but you might feel a little bit woozy after sex with me sometimes."</p><p>"Mmmm. I know you need to, <em>mon cher</em>, so I won't stop you, but will you let me know when you need to go out and feed? I just don't want to be surprised. If that's fair to ask." Booker moaned at the petting. "Intensity sounds fun. I'm sure we'll all safeword out at some point, but we'll be fine." Booker mused. "Any other questions, <em>mon ange</em>, <em>mon cher</em>?"</p><p>"I have a lot of questions, topmost of which is 'can I choke myself on your dick,' but I'm trying to be civil," Joe teased. He nodded at Booker's words. "I'll always let you know, and if I ever make you feel sick, please tell me."</p><p>Nicky rolled his eyes a bit at Joe and hooked his leg over Booker's to rub the side of his foot down Booker's calf. "Do you know if you're at all interested in women? Only asking because," he nodded toward Joe's pliant, androgynous demonic form, "but again, not necessary."</p><p>"I will, my love. I promise." Booker twirled Joe's tail through his fingers like it was a pet snake. "And yes, you can choke on my dick any time." He snickered. Booker looked back at Joe, his expression gentle and adoring. "I was, when I was younger. Genuinely so. Now, because of Manon, it's like the metronome is firmly on men. But...if Joe is willing to try a few different shapes..." He stroked up Joe's thigh. "Although it may just be the knowledge that it's Joe that makes me attracted to the form."</p><p>"Mm, I'm happy to help you experiment and try stuff out in any way you want." Joe replied with a stretch and shifted a bit onto his side so he could curl into ball. Nicky reached around Booker to scratch between Joe's horns and laughed softly at the arch and purr it got him. "We've activated feline mode. He'll probably pass out for a few hours." Nicky shared a look with Booker. "We can pull out the sofa if you want and take a nap until dinner."</p><p>"I'd like that." Booker murmured, winking at Nicky when a wicked idea popped into his mind. "Just to ensure he has good dreams." He laughed. Then he leaned down and whispered in Joe's ear, just loud enough for Nicky to hear. "Soon, I'll want you to show me what you look like as a woman. Soft curves, supple thighs, warm breasts..." Booker moaned, kissing the shell of Joe's ear. "I want to feel your wet, dripping cunt around my cock. I want to see your breasts bounce with every thrust. I want to hear you whine like a whore." He laughed, low and seductive. "Sweet dreams, <em>mon coeur</em>."</p><p>Joe's hand shot up and he gripped the back of Booker's head and pulled him into a biting kiss before drawing back, leveling his red, inhuman eyes at him. "I'm going to ruin you once we start, and you're going to beg me never to stop."</p><p>Nicky took the time while Booker was distracted to quickly clear the space and set up the couch with a quick unfurling of his powers without disturbing Booker and Joe and letting them adjust easily onto the new surface of the bed. Walking on his knees over to where Booker was still partly draped over Joe, Nicky extricated Booker from Joe's grip, kissing him softly. "You rile him up now, you pay the price later."</p><p>"I look forward to it, <em>mon coeur</em>." Booker met Joe's gaze head on, grinning wickedly and savoring the challenge. He let Nicky move him, melting into the kiss. "I'll gladly pay it, <em>mon ame</em>." Booker stroked down Nicky's cheek. "Should I tell you all that I want <em>you</em> to do to me, my love? How badly I want you to mark me? To claim me? How I want you to take me apart and make me yours forever? How I want you to put me on my knees and make me beg for just a taste of your cock while I worship you?"</p><p>"I can tell already from the way you act, pet." Nicky murmured against Booker's shoulder, licking and sucking a different, dark bruise that had marvelous green tinges around the edge. "We'll get to it all in due time." He kissed along the edge of Booker's beard on his throat. "But I love how eager you are."<br/>Scooting a bit to the side and stretching out on his side, Nicky slid a hand up Booker's hip and ribs. "All innuendo aside, though, you are something special to me. Do you want a bookshop? A place for you to keep busy? I can make it happen."</p><p>Booker snuggled down in between his two men, sighing happily as he stretched out. He knew that he must look like a mess, his hair mussed and his skin littered in bruises and wounds. He felt possessed, and he was loving every second of it. With a yawn, he rolled over, letting Joe drape himself against his back. "I want to restore old books and works of art. I want to bring beauty back to old, broken things." He whispered, tucking his head under Nicky's chin. "Things that others forgot or ruined. Like me."</p><p>"I didn't know you did art, too. Do you paint? I'd love to see what you can do." Nicky stroked down Booker's side, mingling their legs together. "And I'll make sure that you can find a nice little place to work." Nicky was quiet for a moment. “We’ll restore you like you restore a book.”</p><p>Joe shifted and pressed his front to Booker's back. "I wanna see, too." He curled his tail around Booker's ankle.</p><p>"I can't create. I just...copy." Booker shrugged, as if it was a fact of life. "I forged things in university. As a side business. My scholarship ran out, and I was too ashamed to tell my parents. I'm good. <em>Very</em> good. Even masters can't tell my fakes from the real thing." Booker said with pride. He shuddered pleasantly at the feeling of Joe's tail.</p><p>Joe's eyes cracked open a bit and he propped his chin up on Booker's bicep. "You naughty thing. I <em>definitely</em> need to see now." He rubbed his cheek against Booker's arm before slipping back off and onto his pillow. "And I bet you can if you let yourself. I'd love to try something with you."</p><p>"If you think I can, then we will. I'm not very good, though. Wholly unoriginal, that's what my teachers used to say." Booker laughed self- deprecatingly. "Still. It could be fun." He yawned.</p><p>"Your teachers and other people in your life have said a lot of stupid things to you, Bastien." Nicky said fiercely. "You're wonderful and they didn't want to see you blossom."</p><p>"Your fearsome love honors me, <em>mon ame</em>." Booker murmured. "You make me want to believe they were wrong." He kissed Nicky's neck.</p><p>"Good." Nicky pressed his face down against Booker's chest, listening to the steady sound of his heart beating. He pulled the thin blanket over them all and let the sound and warmth lull him into sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title taken from "From Eden" by Hozier.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Please let us know in the comments what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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